The Road Back: Season Two
by xxmagex
Summary: The events started in the Road to Hell and Season One of The Road Back continues. A temporally displaced Xander starts to have more and more effect on the world as history is changed.
1. Chapter 25

**Part Twenty-five**

**Wolfram & Hart building, Los Angeles, California. January 19, 2001**

Xander Harris walked in through the front doors of the law firm, and immediately the old spider-sense started tingling at the presence of so many demons.

Unfortunately for him, Xander hadn't heard Lorne's shocked remark with regard to his upcoming future. And Rachael was under orders not to let herself get captured as well, and so the poor woman had to agonizingly wait outside the building for backup to arrive.

Thus, just like for a lot of his life, Xander was all alone amongst enemies.

The head security guard - the same incredibly tall demon that had made Spike reconsider wreaking havoc, here in the lobby of Evil Inc. - came up to Harris at once. "Hold it right there-"

But unfortunately for the bad guy, Xander knew about his species and their few weaknesses. The young man just instantly drove a long knife through the body into the demon's left butt cheek, penetrating the heart blindingly fast; and someone even William the Bloody was wary of, quickly joined the ranks of the dearly departed thanks to the one-time Zeppo.

Xander subsequently didn't move as several security guards rushed forward, and aimed their guns at him. He just said, "The name's Alexander Hall. I have an...appointment with Lilah Morgan."

"Lower your weapon to the ground, right the hell now!" the second-in-command, who looked human, demanded.

But Xander just released a cruel grin, as he hefted the knife. "You guys try to disarm me, and I'll try to kill you all. In fact, I'll try so hard - that you'll be forced to kill me, to stop me! And if that happens, well...let's just say the Senior Partners won't be very happy with you. In fact, they're probably watching us all right now...so what do you say, punk? Do you feel lucky?"

The guards looked at themselves in confusion. They weren't used to their targets acting like this. And the mention of the Senior Partners was definitely unnerving...

The thing was, if the comparison was to be made - these flunkies were like rabid dogs, while Xander was like a feral wolf. And the difference between wolves and dogs is that the latter, having been domesticated by humanity over the millennia, had picked up some of their habits - a dog could conceive of the notion of 'he who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day'.

But wolves, as Xander had learnt from Oz, know nothing of such human thought patterns. A wolf only ever loses one fight in its life - the one it does not get up, and walk away from afterwards.

And at a subconscious level, if it came down to that - both Xander and the guards knew *exactly* who was going to win the fight around here.

**The private office of Lilah Morgan, Wolfram & Hart building, Los Angeles. A few minutes later**

Shortly before midnight, Lilah leaned back in her chair, alone in her office. Things had certainly changed dramatically for her, in the last 24 hours.

The day had started out with only the promise of future action, on her Timetripper project. Plus, middle management had been in an uproar about Lindsey's hiring of Spike and Drusilla backfiring on the firm.

Then had come the party at Holland Manners' residence, which had quickly turned into a nightmare bloodbath for the Special Projects division. As Mr. Hunt Acrey had so charmingly put it, a 15-body massacre with the majority of the contracts staff dead was not part of its quarterly plan, at this branch of the firm! Nonetheless, this had had the effect of making Lilah and Lindsey the senior surviving members of the division.

Of course, Lindsey was tainted by the Spike situation. After all, he had been the one who had hired the vampires in the first place, that had killed a large number of the firm's personnel. Not something that looked good on Lindsey's record, for his attempt to move up the ladder within Wolfram & Hart.

With that as her competition, Lilah felt optimistic about her chances for promotion. And what she was watching right now on the monitors, made her chances look even brighter. Her plan was finally coming to fruition, in a manner that the Senior Partners were certain to appreciate.

Lilah stared at the screen. It showed the interior of an elevator. And in the elevator, as it made its way to the floor where Lilah was now sitting, stood Xander Harris flanked by two security guards.

"Why, hello, Mr. Harris. I've been waiting so long to meet you in person," she said out loud, a predatory smile crossing her face.

**1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale, California. January 20, 2001**

"Why can't my daughter just have a normal birthday?" Joyce asked angrily after midnight, as she hit the armored knight on the head with a frying pan. The Knight of Byzantium had stuck his head through the kitchen window, and Joyce wasn't about to let that go unchallenged.

The party had started out so normally, too. All of the Scoobies had been there. They had pitched in to help prepare the party, insisting that Joyce not strain herself. Even though she seemed to be healing well from her surgery, the Scoobies still knew that February 21, 2001 wasn't that far off...

All the members of the gang knew of Xander's first letter, by now. Buffy had, with the permission of Joyce and Giles, shared it with the others. They immediately of course had taken to doing whatever they could to help Joyce's recovery, although Anya had unnerved them all - when for an entire weekend, she had learned all she could about estates and wills...

Her comment that the transfer of wealth through California's probate laws being more complicated than she had first thought, had thankfully been made out of earshot of both Buffy and Joyce.

The blonde guardian of the Hellmouth had hoped to keep all of the details of the first letter from the Scoobies. However, she had underestimated Willow's determination, when it came to the matter of her former childhood friend. And the redhead, once she knew Xander had written something to Giles, just would not let the matter go. Buffy and her father figure had finally been worn down, and Willow had become the fourth person to read the letter in its entirety.

The others only knew the gist of the note and that future letters were coming, just not when. That delayed explaining the second letter, describing Dawn's origins. Giles had shown it to Buffy and Joyce, but that was all - figuring his Slayer and her mom had a right to know all the information possible that might help in defending Dawn.

And just like in that other world, those in the know were unsure as to how that news would be received, so they figured they would put it off as long as possible. Unbeknownst to them though, now that Dawn knew how Xander would be writing a second letter, she was actively looking for it to read for herself...

In any case, life had progressed for the Sunnydale inhabitants as normal as it was possible on the Hellmouth. Buffy had encountered, on several occasions, these armored knights who were now attacking the Summers household. She knew enough about them to understand that they were after Dawn, and they were somehow connected to Glory.

Of course, Buffy couldn't just go up to them and say that Glory was dead. They would demand explanations, and that would lead to...uncomfortable subject matters. So she simply tried to avoid them as much as possible, and when that didn't work the Chosen One just beat them up a lot.

Buffy's birthday had rolled around and despite the promising start, the festive occasion had maintained the traditional attendant weirdness. By this time, the Scoobies had barricaded themselves within 1630 Revello Drive, and were doing their best imitation of settlers in the Old West waiting for the cavalry to come to the rescue.

Of course, the settlers in the Old West hadn't had a Slayer and several magically gifted individuals in their midst. And the Sunnydale PD was quite simply incapable of a good imitation of the U.S. cavalry, even if they had bothered to respond...

Yes, even though Richard Wilkins was dead, his legacy lived on. A police force in the know, but still determined to do anything and everything to make Buffy's life hell.

Thankfully however, that was *finally* changing; the latest actions of the new DA, who was said not beholden to the late Mayor in any shape or form, had convinced several of the top cops in town that the climate would be more congenial for them elsewhere.

And Cleburne's replacements were slowly working their way up the ladder, keeping a close eye on the Scoobies - especially Willow.

Getting back to the here and now, the Knight whose head had been Joyce's target drew himself back outside. Well, he fell that way would be a more accurate description. {A curse on this house, and all these people in it!} the man angrily thought to himself.

Joyce looked around, to see what else was going on in the kitchen. Anya, Andrew and Giles were the others defending this room. Giles moved over from where he had finished helping moving the kitchen table up against the back door, to where Joyce was.

"Joyce, you shouldn't be here. Look, get upstairs and we'll hold them off-" Giles said.

"I'm staying!" the oldest Summers female present said to the former Watcher.

"But Joyce, your condition-" the British man started.

Only to be interrupted by the middle-aged woman, "NO! Rupert, this is my house - I'm staying. After all, it's my daughter they're after..." She was one of the few who knew the contents of Xander's second letter, after all.

"Is that the best you can do?" the two of them suddenly heard Anya snapping at Andrew. She appeared to be unhappy with the way he'd wedged the table against the door, even though it looked fine to Giles.

The former vengeance demon quickly pushed the apologetic Mr. Wells out of the way, and started positioning the table herself. "This is like when we're in bed together, I have to do all the work!" she growled at her boyfriend.

Despite being in the middle of a life-or-death struggle, both Giles and Joyce blushed at Anya's comments. {Good God - has the woman learned *no* tact whatsoever, ever since she became human?} Rupert briefly thought to himself.

Giles then heard noise from the other parts of the house, where the Scoobies were also fighting off the attackers. He turned back to Joyce. "Stay here - if you need assistance, just shout!" With that, he headed into the dining room. In there Jonathan, Tara and Willow were defending those windows.

"Need any help?" Giles asked the trio of defenders.

Willow shook her head. "No, we have it under control. I think Buffy might need some help though, I saw a bunch of those knights running towards the window near the front door. Jonathan, go with him!" she said.

Jonathan and Giles quickly hurried from the dining room into the living room, where Buffy and Dawn were making their stand. The two males could hear the two sisters arguing...

"I'm telling you, Dawn, get upstairs!" Buffy shouted at her sister. But before the Key could respond, the window shattered as several Knights jumped through.

The Slayer muttered under her breath, and moved to attack them. {You'd think these guys would get the hint, from all the times I've put the beat down on them!}

She kicked out at the lead one, and he flew back out the window. As Buffy, knowing that these jokers would put Dawn in danger, barely held back when fighting them. She turned to face the next one, just ducking under the sword he swung at her head.

The Knight, in so doing, left himself vulnerable to Giles punching him in the side of the head. The Knight staggered off-balance to his left, from the blow. This allowed Buffy enough time to turn her full attention to the Knight in question. When he righted up, he was met by Buffy's fist full in the face. Thus he fell back towards the window, out of the fight for the present.

But sadly, like ants at a picnic, if you swatted away one Knight - three others appeared to take his place. Buffy found herself being advanced upon by several more of the Knights, the blonde girl recognizing the lead one being as the leader from that night in the alley.

"We seek the Key! Tell us what we want to know, and we will spare you and the others in this domicile," Orlando gravely intoned.

"Oh, come on! Just leave us alone. Can't we have one normal night here?" Dawn yelled at him, not realizing that she was in fact what he was seeking. One of the Knights then knocked her unconscious, swinging the handle of the sword that he held.

"Dawn!" Buffy yelled. "You bastards! And I'm thinking that the threatening act hasn't worked before, so why should it work now?" the Slayer declared, as she punched that Knight who had gotten too close to her.

The other Knights advanced, supporting each other. "Because we are within your home, and unless you plan to somehow kill us all - we can return whenever we desire. And hurt all those who live here!" Orlando threatened.

Threatening Buffy was not a good idea, and threatening her family and friends was an even worse idea. And doing so within earshot of her Watcher, who had once been known and feared by the name 'Ripper' was, most likely, the worst possible idea they could have come up with.

The Knights were concentrating on the Slayer, and so didn't see Giles come up upon their flank with a mace he had just picked up from the weapons chest. Rupert swung the mace, and was rewarded with a satisfying crack as the mace impacted on the helmet worn by the nearest attacker. The legs of that Knight buckled, as the others realized they were under attack from another source.

"You two!" Orlando said to the two Knights nearest Giles. "Kill him!"

They advanced as ordered, and now that they knew of the threat that was the British man, they were taking no chances. Giles prepared himself; he had no illusions about the upcoming results of this fight. Even though he was more than competent when it came to armed combat, he could easily recognize the highly trained warriors in his opponents.

They weren't going to give the older guy a chance in this battle. However, the universe was not about to abandon the Tweed Man, for the Knights had again forgotten about a threat to them. As they advanced on Giles, they suddenly tripped when they shouldn't have.

Off to the side, Jonathan finished the hex spell he had just incanted. It was just some quick and dirty minor magic, but enough to make the two attackers clumsy on their feet. Giles looked back at the young man, smiled in appreciation and immediately attacked the two Knights as they tried to get up.

Orlando took in what had just happened, and silently berated himself for not gathering more information on the Slayer's friends. General Gregor would surely have not made such a mistake. But his self-recriminations were cut short, by his being attacked by Buffy.

The vampire Slayer, still pissed over her sister and seeing that he was momentarily distracted, launched a flying kick at Orlando that impacted on his chest. He fell back with a loud thud. Buffy was unable to follow up her advantage though, as two other Knights rushed forward to defend their leader.

But the college girl parried their blows with ease. Giles was getting the upper hand on his two opponents. Jonathan was keeping an eye on the fight, looking for opportunities to intervene.

However suddenly, his eyes widened. "Guys!" Levinson shouted out. "We got a lot more visitors coming!"

Through the window, Jonathan could see quite a few Knights on the street starting towards the house. Giles looked out the window too, as he finished throwing one of his attackers back out through it. "Damn!" he said. "We need a wall or something there, to-to keep them out..."

Suddenly, a look came to Giles' face. "Willow, Tara! Get in here!" He then used the handle of the mace to hit his second attacker, still on the floor, in the head. The Knight slumped back down. Giles reached down, and half-dragged/half-hurled him out the window.

"Buffy, we need to get those three back out through the window - right now!" Giles shouted, as Willow and Tara came into the living room.

Buffy started attacking her two opponents with gusto, driving them back towards the window. Orlando started to rise to attack the Slayer from the rear, however he met Giles as he rose.

Once again the mace descended in a downward descent, and met the head of one of the Knights of Byzantium. As the blow stunned Orlando, Giles had an easy time pushing him out of the house. He then noticed that Buffy had just about forced the two other Knights outside too. Thus, the Brit turned his attention to the three magic users in the room; he hurried over to the trio, and explained what he wanted them to do.

All three nodded, and quickly moved into position. Giles ran over and tackled one of Buffy's attackers. Once down, he kneed him hard in the side, where there was a gap in his armor. The Knight moaned in pain, and Giles used the opportunity to lift the guy up and push him through the window.

That left one - who, now that he was alone, Buffy quickly kicked out through the broken glass.

Once he was gone Jonathan, Tara and Willow quickly chanted a spell. There was a flash of light; and then the Knights who were running up to the broken window, suddenly bounced back as if they had hit an invisible wall. Which was exactly what they had done; hit an energy wall put up by the magical spell.

Giles surveyed the scene. "Well, that should hold them off for a while..."

A noise from behind them in the hall closet caused the Scoobies to whirl around, to see the source of the noise. The closet door squeaked as it opened, and a young man looked out.

"Is, is it back to normal out here yet?" Greg asked nervously, the guy who just happened to be Buffy's date for the evening.

**Revello Drive, Sunnydale, California. The same time**

The demon known as 'Doc' observed the scene that was taking place in front of Summers home, from the safety of further down the street. He knew who lived there. When the Knights of Byzantium had shown up in town, Doc had made it a point to be fully informed as to their activities and their interests.

When they had become determined to learn more about the Summers woman, Doc had done likewise. And when they had figured out that Buffy Summers knew something about the Key, Doc hadn't been far behind.

Needless to say, this information had been of great interest to him. In his evil mind, it could possibly help out in his plans to bring back Glorificus. To put right what had once gone wrong...

So when he'd learned the Knights were moving upon the Summers home, Doc had gone there himself. With some friends, of course.

"Well, now. It looks like the Knights may have bitten off a little more than they can chew," Doc commented, his demonic eyes and tail briefly appearing.

"They'll find a way around that shield, good sir; if not tonight, then later!" one of Doc's three companions, the hobbit-with-leprosy looking creature named Jinx, commented.

The others, fellow worshippers of Glory called Dreg and Murk, were quick to agree. "Most definitely!" "Absolutely!"

Doc raised an eye at the minions' actions. He knew that Glorificus had preferred their sycophantic ways, but to be honest, he wasn't too thrilled with their attitude himself. {Oh well, you take your help where you can get it - as Ms. Summers is about to learn} he mused to himself.

"Then it would be beneficial to us to make sure that doesn't happen, at least not until we have what we need. Come, let's see what we can do to help."

And they proceeded to do so - luckily for the Scoobies, as the man known as Josef Lemke was spending a much-needed evening at home with his wife and newborn child.

**The private office of Lilah Morgan, Wolfram & Hart building, Los Angeles. The same time**

"So *this* is the guy everyone has been all worked up about!" Lindsey MacDonald remarked, as he entered Lilah's office.

Xander was sitting on a couch at the far side of the office from Lilah's desk. For some reason, he really wasn't being that sociable with Lilah and her staff - two security guards hovered nearby him, but stayed out of arm's reach.

Lilah smiled, with the smile of someone who feels the game had been won already. "Mr. Alexander Harris, meet Mr. Lindsey MacDonald. You'll have to pardon him, he just managed to get most of our department killed - so he may not be the most pleasant person to be around, at the moment..." Lilah took advantage and twisted the figurative knife in Lindsey's gut quite a lot. After all - she could afford to do so, now that she had won everything she'd planned to get.

Lindsey grimaced. "How was I supposed to know that that loopy duo would go off the deep end completely? Besides, Holland authorised everything I did, all the way to the hilt. Don't forget that little tidbit, Lilah..."

Xander just watched the interplay between the two lawyers in silence.

"And of course, he's here to say that now, isn't he? You should have seen what was coming, Lindsey, what with the nut case talking about the stars and everything-"

Lilah's comment stirred Xander's memory. "Drusilla and Spike, right? You guys hired those two for something. And you're surprised when it turned around and bit you on the ass?" Xander said with a smirk.

This annoyed Lindsey, who to be honest wasn't having the best day. So he wasn't about to put up with lip from someone who was supposedly a prisoner of the firm. {This guy needs to be taught a lesson... }

The man strode over to where Xander was sitting, "I'm thinking that you're in no position to criticize anyone right now-" he started to say, leaning down and placing his hands on the table in front of the former Scooby as he did so.

Xander just grinned at the attorney. With a speed that the lawyer clearly did not expect, Xander pulled out the knife he had used on the demon in the lobby - and drove it through Lindsey's plastic hand, pinning him to the table.

The male attorney yelped in surprise, but fortunately not pain.

"*That's* why I'm over here!" Lilah observed, wondering to herself if Xander had known ahead of time that the hand he had pinned to the table was a fake one, and if the Timetripper even cared one way or another. The security guards just looked at Lilah - and seeing that she wasn't too disturbed, didn't move to help Lindsey.

"You really aren't very good at that whole 'thinking' thing, are you?" Xander asked the Texan, as he pulled at his impaled fake hand. "You know, I thought lawyers were supposed to be smart, but after meeting you two - I'm not so sure anymore."

"A little help here?" Lindsey hissed out at Lilah.

"Yes, Ms. Morgan, please help your colleague. After all, here at Wolfram & Hart, we're all one big happy family," Xander said sarcastically, with a feral grin on his face.

"How the hell did he get a weapon into the building?" Lindsey asked, finally getting free.

"He told security that if they tried to take it from him, they would have to kill him. And that a dead Mr. Harris would make the Senior Partners...unhappy. All true enough, so they brought him to me," Lilah replied.

"And you couldn't have warned me about that?" Lindsey asked, with more than a trace of irritation.

"I could have, but I thought I'd see what happened if I didn't," Lilah smiled and folded her arms, as she answered her colleague.

Growing impatient with the banter, Xander turned and fixed his glare on Lilah. "Where is Faith's soul?" he asked in a deadly cold voice. Inwardly, he was starting to feel concerned - Cleburne probably should have stormed in here by now...

"Mr. Harris, please - let's not get ahead of ourselves. We have much discuss as to what you can do for the firm. Later on, we'll discuss Ms. LeHane's ultimate disposition-" Lilah continued grinning at Xander.

Which was a big mistake.

With a speed that again took all the other occupants in the room by surprise, Xander leapt up and charged at Ms. Morgan. He easily passed by the guards and before they could react, he was in front of the female attorney. The man grabbed her by the throat with his left head, easily thwarting her attempts to push him away.

"Listen to me, you bitch! You should have no illusions about what I'll do to you, for all the shit you've pulled lately. Because when I came back from Ken's playpen, I killed three people for things they hadn't even done yet! Technically, they were all innocents. So the way I look at it, I'm not exactly gonna be welcome when it comes to getting through the Pearly Gates one day! I got nothing to lose - so if you don't tell me where that Orb is right now, I'll put you on an express elevator straight to Hell!" Xander growled at her.

Lilah actually felt her blood turning into ice at his words. She knew enough about Xander's history to know he wasn't bluffing. "Mr. Harris-" she managed to choke out.

The two guards *finally* rushed to her aid, and the first man received Xander's right fist to his face for his trouble - quickly ending up in dreamland.

"Don't push your luck!" Xander then snarled, and the second one stopped in his tracks at the threat potential in the former slave's voice. Harris then turned his attention back to the lawyer in his grasp. "Now, where were we?" he asked.

"Sleep," a voice at the doorway said, and Xander visibly struggled against the order for a second. "Sleep!" the new arrival said again with more force.

Xander struggled some more. "Get...out...of my..." he grunted. The former Scooby actively fought against what was happening, and tried to grab his trusty old .45 handgun tucked in the waistband of his pants. However Xander's right arm had already fallen asleep, and it was like trying to move through liquid lead.

"Sleep!" There was a higher volume used by the speaker, and there was more than just a trace of frustration in his voice. Finally Xander lost the battle and slumped over, letting go of Lilah's throat as he did.

Ms. Morgan almost leapt clear of him, rubbing at her throat. "You took your own sweet time about it!" she managed to croak out.

The warlock just grinned at Lilah, and didn't fail to notice Lindsey had a matching smirk on his face. "Ma'am, you just paid me to stick my head in if he got out of hand. You didn't pay me to run around after you, or anything like that."

Lilah made an exasperated face at her contract employee. One of the disadvantages from Spike's little rampage was that the majority of the on-call staff used by Wolfram & Hart were a little busy hunting him down, and Lilah had been forced to used contract labor for her own project.

She turned to the security guard that was still standing, "Move him to the interrogation room, and do it quickly. Tell them to start with the drugs right away! We probably only have a limited amount of time..."

**Rome, Italy. Two hours later**

Several ambulances raced down the street, with their sirens blaring in the morning daylight. One of them came dangerously close to the curb, and several pedestrians scattered. With the exception of two men - who judged that the ambulance wouldn't get close enough to concern them.

"Huh. Personally, I think that went well," Cleburne commented.

"Yes sir, they shouldn't bother any of the good people of this city ever again," Gunny replied. Behind them, off in the direction from which they were coming, the top couple of floors of a luxury apartment building had smoke and flames pouring out from several of the windows.

"Remind me to ask Esther for a raise after this one. And while I'm at it - one for you too, Gunny," Cleburne joked as they continued walking down the street.

At the end of the street there was a sidewalk cafe, with several of its customers rubbernecking at the scene they could see down the street. As the two Siberians approached the cafe, they both started to slow down a little bit.

"Colonel..." Gunny said softly.

"I see him." Cleburne was referring to the one customer in the cafe who was not enthralled by the scene a short distance from them. An older man, with the look of someone who had seen a lot in life, was sitting at one of the tables calmly sipping a cup of coffee.

He watched the two Siberians get closer to him with feigned disinterest. But all three parties knew how much this was just an act.

"Morning," the older man said in English with a coarse Afrikaner accent. "You two were up early. What was that old Yank army slogan, get more done before nine o'clock than most people do all day?"

"Cyrus," Cleburne said simply.

"I hear you're been asking after me, trying to find me," Cyrus motioned for Cleburne and Gunny to sit down at the table with him. The two of them looked at each other and then surveyed the surrounding area, before sitting down.

"Well, it *would* have been easier if you had a steady address. 'Course, you've not really had one since 1999 and your company folded," Cleburne debated for a second about ordering something, then decided against it. "You were still in the trade, but not easy to get in touch with. Last I heard, you were in Sierra Leone..."

"Things got better there, with less need of my services. And you don't keep people like me around when things are going well, man. I thought it best to keep moving after that, I'm a real popular man back home!" He grinned at Cleburne.

"Yes, there's no doubt the South African authorities would like to have a chat with you - among other things," Gunny said.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow at the noncom's comment. The South African then turned his attention back to Cleburne, who had just finished turning on his cell phone. "Generally, if they're not looking to lock me up, people only look for me when they're in a tight spot. I've not heard anything about you blokes being in a tight spot. Just some crazy ragheads takin' potshots at you..."

Cleburne ignored Cyrus's comment. "I recall one time you mentioning a bit of trouble you got into back during the late Seventies, up in Angola. You and your patrol had quite a story to tell, huh?"

Cyrus' face reddened. "You dragged me out of hiding, to make fun of stories I told years ago?" he started to seethe.

Joshua raised his hand. "I know better than to do that. Look, Cyrus, you know there are things that go bump in the night, things that most people refuse to even acknowledge exist. Your own government knew that, otherwise they would have retired you permanently when you told them your story - and sure as hell they wouldn't have reinstated you a few years later, back to your old duties."

"Lot of good it did me, man. You know what happened, when they gave up the ghost..."

"Capitalism became your guiding light. Personal security companies, I think that's what they call your line of work now. Been a real growth industry in Africa, ever since Idi Amin. Every little dirty war became your personal training ground, as you trained the troops of the side that paid you the most. And you were quite good at it."

The older man now looked a little bit confused. "And this brings me to Rome to talk to you, why?"

"Certain arrangements are taking place at the international level now, Cyrus. One result of those arrangements is the need to train individuals with how to deal with certain threats...not normally covered in boot camp. You've dealt with these things before, and you're good at training soldiers...hold on."

The buzzing of Cleburne's cell phone drew his attention. He opened up the secure communications device, "Hello?"

A pause. "Yeah, Esther, we're done here. No need to worry about that problem anymore."

Cleburne's brow then furrowed in response to whatever he was hearing. "What?"

"When, how, where?" Cleburne was clearly getting agitated

"What? Wolfram & Hart?! Crap! Call Red, he's in Los Angeles right now. I think Riley might be there also, tell them to play cavalry. They're already doing that? Good! We're on our way back, right the hell now!" He jabbed at the phone and stood up, "Come on, you two, we'll have to talk as we run and fly!"

Gunny stood up immediately, he knew the Marine colonel well enough to know that whatever had happened, it was bad. "What's the situation?"

"The kid has gone and gotten himself into a whole shitload of big trouble!"

**Conference room, Wolfram & Hart, Los Angeles. The same time**

Lilah and Lindsey had gathered together with someone called Nathan Reed - who had taken over for Holland Manners earlier that day, to the big annoyance of Lilah. In fact, when she had heard the news, the female attorney had thought to herself, { Unbelievable! What does a woman have to *do* to get ahead in a man's world, I ask you? } Then she involuntarily shuddered when some of the answers came into her mind, particularly when the Wolfram & Hart twist to Lilah's life was factored in.

In any case, the bald white man had lost no time in asserting his authority. "Mr. MacDonald. Ms. Morgan. Quite a situation you've created for me - and during my first day on the job, too."

"Sir-" Lilah started to say.

"As long as I'm the head of Special Projects, I don't want to hear anything except results, counselor. Is that clear? What's the situation with Mr. Harris?"

Lilah and Lindsey looked at one another. The Texan started to explain, "Well, sir, it's problematical to question someone who's unconscious. The drugs that we administered should have gotten him awake and talking, but they didn't. And why the hell the scopolamine and all the other stuff didn't work - is just beyond the technicians' ability to explain, at the moment. I'm sorry-"

Nathan was in no mood for this, though. "I'm not Holland Manners, Mr. MacDonald. I don't have the sentimental streak for you two that he did - let's be clear on that right now! And as for Harris, wake him up and get him talking the old-fashioned way. Kill him if necessary, and interrogate his soul-"

Lilah and Lindsey again looked at each other, and Lindsey cleared his throat. "Well, sir - that's a complicated thing right now..."

Nathan sighed. "Don't beat around the bush with me, either of you. Or you'll end up in it! Speak frankly!"

Lilah started to explain about the Soul Stone, placing it on the table in front of Reed. "We found this artifact on him. Mr. Harris has obviously done something that we're not sure of the implications of yet-"

Lindsey almost had admiration in his voice as he interrupted, "Man must have planned ahead, in case something went wrong for him - the moment he dies, the guy's essence will most likely undergo something none of us here at Wolfram & Hart will like. The Soul Stone is proof of that - its counterpart must be somewhere close by in the city, Harris must have someone ready to grab his soul before we can do it..."

Lilah went on, "We can almost certainly come up with a way to get around that, but...it'll take time. And most likely, that's a commodity that's in short supply right now..."

Nathan looked annoyed. He told the duo, "Fine. Get a Falanjoid demon to suck out the man's brains, then it won't matter if he dies or not; the psychics can get all the answers they need that way!"

Again the two lawyers looked at each other, as Lilah uncomfortably admitted that they'd already thought of that. "I'm afraid though that the Falanjoid took one sniff of Mr. Harris, and then ran away screaming - as did another of its species, later on..."

Reed now looked pissed. The bald guy with glasses looked at his watch and then told Lilah and Lindsey, "We don't have time for this, Siberian Trip Wire is probably on its way here right now..."

He paused. "We need the best people available, to get every bit of information that the Senior Partners want. And we can't afford to be disturbed by these interlopers, who think they have a claim on Xander Harris. So, have him transferred into the custody of..."

"Who?" asked Lindsey and Lilah together, when it became obvious that the question was begging to be asked.

Nathan smiled. "The Covenant of Trombli, in that dimension called Pylea."

**Unknown place, unknown time**

"Hello. Anyone there?" the female voice rang out, oddly familiar to Xander.

The former Scooby and current 'guest' of Wolfram & Hart looked around the dark surroundings he found himself in. "Hello?" Harris called back, somewhat uncertainly.

"Hello, where are you?" The voice shouted back.

"Stay there, I'll come to you!" Xander answered, shouting into the darkness. He started towards where the voice was, "And keep talking so I can find you!"

"Okay, but what do I say? Oh! How about this? I think there should be a law passed that my sister no longer be allowed to celebrate her birthday! Because every time she does it, something strange and dangerous happens..."

Xander couldn't help but laugh at that. "Sounds like someone I used to know..." Several yards away in the gloom, he could make out the dim form of a young girl. "What happened to you?"

"I don't know. One moment I'm in the living room enjoying some birthday cake, when these nuts in medieval armor come in yelling about some key - then one of 'em hit me on the head, and next thing I know I'm here..."

Xander stopped for a moment, when he heard the word key. The shape in front of him seemed familiar. {I know it, don't I? Yeah, yeah - it's definitely a blast from my past} He looked closely, and slowly approached his companion. "Dawn?" the 24-year-old guy asked hesitantly.

Dawn Summers's head shot up. She then stepped forward herself... "Xander!" the girl shouted out, and threw herself into a tight hug of her friend. "How-? I thought I'd never see you again..."

Xander Harris was now confused. The last thing he remembered was being in that bitch Lilah Morgan's office, and hearing some guy telling him to sleep. And Dawn would surely not be anywhere near Wolfram & Hart; as by this time, Buffy and Giles would be aware of what Dawn's true origins were, the second letter should have been delivered by now - so this couldn't be the girl in question.

But still, as he hugged what looked like Dawn - Xander realized just how much he had *missed* the child in his arms.

Because by the summer of 2003 - Buffy and Anya had slept with Spike, Willow and Faith had become murderers, Tara and Joyce had ended up dead, Angel and Cordy had hit the road and completely left him behind, and Giles had abandoned them all to go to England - twice...

Dawn was the one pure thing he remembered from his other life; the only part of it that was never sullied or tainted by living on the Hellmouth - her whining, kleptomania and taser notwithstanding.

The brunette teenager was also a little confused. The last thing she remembered had been the Knights of Byzantium attacking Buffy's birthday party, now she was here in this dark landscape. Of course, her confusion at meeting Xander was understandable - as she believed the guy had been dead for nearly two years now.

Dawn suddenly trembled. {Oh no...am I dead too? Is, is this the afterlife? I don't remember dying, though, just getting knocked out.}

Actually, she needn't have worried. What neither of them knew was that Brother Feodor's changes to the ritual that had converted the Key into human form months ago - had granted Dawn some...well, extra benefits, this time around.

Extra benefits that in the fullness of time would become apparent to Xander, the Scoobies and others who came to be interested in the whole Key situation.

The young girl then thought firmly, {I'm not dead, I can't be - this all feels way too real. So that means.} She squealed in delight and thought, {XANDER'S ALIVE! How, why - wait, I don't care! My future husband is back! }

Dawn, still hugging Xander, suddenly sensed him tense up. "Xander? What's wrong? You're back, everything should be fine - right?"

Xander didn't answer, as his mind worked through what he was experiencing. { This can't be Dawn, since I'm a prisoner of Wolfram & Hart - and there is no way they would just leave me here, wherever *here* is. } He straightened up as he thought, {So, I guess this isn't real. I'm dreaming or something.}

"Xander?" Dawn asked in a frightened voice. {Why are you looking at me like that?}

Xander smiled at what he thought was the dream version of Dawn. "It's all right, Dawnie. I know now that you're not real-"

Dawn stepped back, and stabbed him with a fierce look in her teenage eyes. "Not real? Not *real*?! Hold on there, bucko-"

Xander couldn't help himself, he laughed out loud at Dawn's fiery response to his comment. "Dawn-patrol, I got to admit - you do remind me quite a bit of the real Dawn-"

"I AM THE REAL DAWN!" Dawn shouted at Xander. She proceeded to poke Xander in the shoulder with her finger. "See, see? No dream can poke you like that. And I'll make you black and blue if I have to, to convince you that I'm real!"

"Ow!" Xander said half-laughingly, as he grabbed Dawn's fingers to stop the poking. "Okay. Okay, if you say you're real, then you're real." {Even though it's obvious you can't be, otherwise I'd be screaming in pain from the damn headaches.}

Dawn leaned back, seemingly mollified by Xander's stated acceptance of her realness. "That's better. Now, let's get back to the important stuff. Like, where have you been these past two years, and are you coming back home with me now?" She folded her arms in an unconscious imitation of her sister, when the brunette asked that question.

Xander chuckled again. {Hey, this is pretty good!} "Well - you know, a little bit of this and that, here and there, doing the James Bond thing. Although come to think of it, I don't have any snazzy gadgets or clothes. How about you, Dawnster?"

"Oh, it's been a drag. I tell you, living with Buffy is just awful at times! She's always whining about one thing or another..." Dawn's voice shifted to a high-pitched imitation of Buffy's, "I can't keep a boyfriend, school is hard, slaying interferes with my social life, Greg doesn't understand me..."

Xander frowned. "Greg? I don't - there's no Greg in Buffy's life-"

"Well, you haven't been around since high school. She hooked up with him a few weeks ago, after her former honey Jeff Johnson ran out of town - when Dracula made him like some kinda mindless slave, last year? Anyway, she brought Greg to her birthday party. Some upperclassman, but he's like totally useless! When those Knights of the Round Table wannabes attacked, he just vanished! I think he's hiding in the basement or something..."

{Wait a minute. Buffy never dated anyone named Greg, or Jeff Johnson. And the Knights of Byzantium never attacked Buffy's house, as I recall. Why the heck would my imagination get so creative like this? } Xander thought to himself, with a sudden feeling of dread.

His thoughts were cut short by Dawn. "And you haven't answered my other question. Are you coming back home with me? I mean - you gotta, Xander! Everyone will be so thrilled to see you-"

Xander couldn't help but snort at this. "Somehow, Dawn, I kinda doubt that. I know of several people back in the 'dale, who really weren't too gung-ho on me being around..."

Dawn sighed. "Hey, I'm not going to defend what those three scatterbrains did. It was way stupid, and I've torn into them about it more than once, so they know how I feel. And hey, Christmas was a real knock-down and drag-out fight with Buffy about it! I think they're finally seeing the light, though; when Willow went to LA recently to re-ensoul that Darla person, she told me afterwards how she talked to Cordelia about you. And I may be a teenager, but I can still read between the lines...would you believe that that - that - brunette *hussy* still wants you?"

Xander felt more doubt creep into his mind, as the memory of talking with Gwen Raiden briefly ignited. For a figment of his imagination, this Dawn seemed to know an awful lot beyond what his subconscious should know...

Harris shook his head. {More likely it's my subconscious projecting a wish fulfillment with regard to the girls} he thought to himself. Xander silently chuckled, those classes the Wizard had him taking were clearly leaving their mark on his psyche.

"If you say so, Dawn. But still, I'm not coming back with you. You know that old poem, 'miles to go before I sleep'..."

Dawn frowned at him. {Xander quoting poetry? And not from a comic book? }

She looked around for some place to sit. Not seeing anything to use as a chair, the teenage girl shrugged her shoulders and sat down on the ground. Miss Summers noticed that it seemed to be black sand, so it was probably okay. She then reached up and grabbed Xander's hand, pulling him to sit down next to her.

"Xander, there is nothing in the world which should stand between you and coming back home! Everyone misses you. *I* miss you. I visit your gravesite weekly, although now that I know you're alive I probably won't be going anymore..." She sheepishly smiled at Xander. "Uh, sorry, I know she was your girlfriend and everything - but I wasn't that close to Faith. So I don't visit her often."

"Faith?"

"Yeah, we buried her close to you, but not right next to you. Several yards away. Mom had a bench put in between your two graves so that when we visit, we'll have a place to sit down." Dawn smiled. "By the way, thanks for the letter to Giles about Mom. They operated on her, and it looks like she's recovering nicely."

Xander smiled at Dawn's comments. "You're welcome. And I have a gravesite? Cool. I hope it's nice. 'Course in Sunnydale, that's one thing they do right, designing tombstones. After all - the undertakers have so much experience."

Dawn nodded. "Oh yeah. Very quiet and peaceful, with a great view. I enjoy my visits there..." Dawn suddenly looked troubled. "Well, maybe not enjoy visiting your gravesite, I like spending time at some place that we honored you with. Because we thought you were dead. Not that we were happy that you were dead. Or thought you were dead..."

Xander reached over and patted Dawn on her knee, amused by the teen babble. "That's all right, Dawnster. I know what you meant. As matter of fact, I'm honored that you visit my grave so regularly."

Dawn smiled with a big grin at that. "When we get back home, I'll show it to you. You'll like the saying on the tombstone! 'The soul of a hero'." Dawn used her hands to emphasize her point about the saying.

"The soul of a hero?" Xander repeated. "I never knew that. Uh, so who came up with it?" {Now, why would that even matter? You know all this is just a figment of your imagination!}

"Willow did. She was all torn up after you died in that explosion. We all were, when it looked like you had gotten blown up. But Willow took it the worst-"

"Well, she has only herself to blame!" Xander snapped.

"Xander!" Dawn almost shouted. "Willow's sorry, they are all for what they did-"

"Look, Dawn, I know what you're saying is some form of deep-seated desire to make everything right again, on behalf of my subconscious. But I can't believe I'm having this conversation with myself!" Xander sighed to himself.

"Hey, I told you I'm real!" She folded her arms and looked fiercely again at Xander. "Look, I know this is real. This doesn't feel like a dream. So I'm real, and you're real. The sooner you accept that, the sooner we can get you back home!"

Xander frowned, {She's right about one thing, this doesn't feel like a dream. It feels different. Stronger, more focused. } "Dawn-" he started to say.

"No, you listen here Xander!" Dawn declared, her tone clearly showing she would brook no interruption. "Somehow, I don't know how, we have a connection. So we're here. Together. We're talking to each other, and we need to plan how to get you back home! It's the key to resolving this whole thing-"

{The Key? Wait, Dawn mentioned that before - oh no. Oh, crap! This is Dawn Summers talking - and she doesn't know she's the Key? Then it's really her!? Maybe we *do* have a connection - oh God, Brother Feodor. He must've done something different from the first time around, when he did that ritual! This has gotta be Dawn's consciousness or whatever, her body is probably back in Sunnydale right now...no physical proximity, that's why there are no headaches from the Vulcan mind-meld thing.}

Focusing his thoughts, the man then said, "Dawn, I can't go back to the Hellmouth. Not now, and possibly not ever." Xander held his hand up, to stop the inevitable interruption from the Key in human form. "I can't show my face publicly."

"Why not? It's a really handsome face!" Dawn pouted.

"Well, it's also a face a lot of people have come to know, and want to be in the company of. And they aren't too sensitive when it comes to the methods they would use to know me, and get to spend time with me."

"We could stop them. Look at all the things we've stopped before!" Dawn declared.

"Yeah - the Scooby gang's stopped demons, vampires and all the things that go bump in the night. But the things I hide from don't need to hide in the dark, kiddo. They can walk around in broad daylight, without people screaming and running away in terror. And they can make people go away and not come back, in a very bad way."

"I'm not afraid of them! Buffy can kick their asses, if it comes to that-" Dawn declared.

Xander smiled, looking at his young friend. "No she can't, because Buffy can't kill people that way with a gun or a knife - and that's what it'd take, to stop these humans. Plus - remember Ted, and what happened then? Dawn, you need to be afraid if these guys ever try to grab hold of any of you. In their own way, they're more dangerous than anything you've ever faced. And bottom line - I have things to do over the next few years, and I don't want to know that you got hurt because of me."

Dawn's face clearly showed she wasn't happy at Xander's words. "You're still mad because of what Buffy and the others did, aren't you?"

For a fraction of a second, Xander considered dodging that question. Then he decided a straight answer was the best response. "Yeah, I am. Very much so in fact, even after all this time. That's the kind of thing you don't ever forget. You don't leave a fellow warrior down in the field."

"Huh?"

Xander sighed. "Look, Dawnie, if there's one thing I want you to understand from our little confab today - it's the fact that I'm no hero. I'm a survivor."

"I still don't get what you're-"

"Lemme finish. Dawn, heroes are people who die in a blaze of glory on the battlefield or whatever, and everyone remembers who they were and what they did. The survivors? They're the guys that no one remembers, but they're also the ones that walk away alive once the smoke clears afterwards..."

Xander had a cold, wintry smile on his face. "I know what category I've always belonged in. I do what I have to do, and a lot of the stuff I've done - it would quite possibly make you hate and despise me, if you knew details! But there are rules that even I follow, and not leaving someone behind to be eaten by a vamp is one of them."

Dawn focused on just that last sentence. "Xander, they were wrong, they were stupid, and it was horrible what they did. No one's gonna argue with you on that point! I told Buffy as much at the time, and several times since as a matter of fact! I think we just about drove Mom crazy with some of our arguments, at that..."

Xander chuckled, as he imagined the two Summers girls arguing. "You two should go easy on your mother, Dawn. She needs peace and quiet. Now more than ever."

"I know, but over time I managed to drill it into Buffy's head the wrongness of what she did. She's really sorry about it-"

Xander's snort interrupted Dawn's sentence, but ignoring that she just kept right on going. "-and she wishes that she could do whatever it took, to set things right. Can't you please find it within your heart to forgive them? And come home where you belong? We need you, *I* need you-"

Then the Key noticed the former Zeppo starting to smile. "What?"

Xander almost chuckled again. "I'd almost forgotten. You still have that cute crush on me these days, don't you?"

"IT IS NOT A CRUSH!" Dawn screeched, before she heard herself and her face instantly went red. "I-I-I mean..."

"Dawn. It's okay. Future knowledge and all, remember? Believe it or not, you'll get past this, meet someone your own age. Well, as long as it's not that asshole vamp you parked with during Halloween-"

But Dawn only heard the love of her life rejecting her, in the cruelest way possible. "NO! You're the one I want...I mean, as soon as I turn 18-"

Xander interrupted, "I'll be 28 years old by then, remember? And *way* too old for you. Look, Dawnie-"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT! I'm not a child!"

Xander sighed, as he contemplated that. "Yeah, you're not. And I know that, even if no one else does in quite the same way. Okay, Dawn Summers, lemme put it like this - you're someone very special. No, let me rephrase that - you're not special, you're extraordinary..."

The man went on, "I remember during 2003, how I told you that - you were nearly 17 years old by then, and we were in the fight of our lives against an enemy that had us outmatched in almost every which way. You did something that really impressed me, and I'll never forget it. So you're not a little girl, but you're not a grownup yet either. Do us both a favor, Dawn - don't be in such a hurry to become one. 'Cause it really ain't all it's cracked up to be..."

Miss Summers had listened to Xander's little speech in complete fascination, when suddenly she noticed the gloomy landscape around them starting to become brighter. White light was definitely appearing, and growing more intense with each passing second. "Xander-?"

But Harris just smiled, as they both got up. "It was good to see ya again, Dawn. Take care of your mom and Giles for me-"

There was no time for her to reply, as their connection was broken in a blast wave of blinding light.

**Sunnydale General Hospital, Sunnydale, California. The same time**

Dawn blinked, thinking she was still talking with Mr. Harris. "Xander-?" Then she noticed she was lying in a bed that was not her own, and there were bright lights shining down upon her. "What-?"

"Dawn?" That was Buffy's voice, and she sounded scared. "Are, are you okay?"

The young brunette winced, as her head hurt. A LOT. "Buffy? Where am I?"

Joyce Summers leaned down, all sweet motherly concern. "You're in the hospital, sweetie. You got a very nasty hit on the head-"

"What happened?" the teenager asked, the pain receding a little.

"That doesn't matter right now," Joyce said quickly, shooting a look towards her oldest daughter not to mention anything. Especially how the Knights had retreated, after they had been openly attacked on the street by a horde of mercenary demons that unknown to the Scoobies were on Doc's payroll. "All that matters is that you rest, and get better."

"Mom-" Dawn started to say. Then she remembered, "Xander! Mom, he's alive, I was just talking to him-"

Buffy shook her head at once. "It was only a dream, Dawn. I mean, you've been out cold - from the moment that guy hit you. And Mom and I have been right by your side, every instant since then."

"But..."

"I'm afraid Buffy's right, sweetheart. I'm sorry, but Xander's gone now and whatever you thought happened - you must have just dreamed it all up," Joyce said comfortingly.

The human incarnation of the Key contemplated that. And the more she thought about it, the more it made sense to her. "Yeah, I-I guess you're right..." Dawn said hesitantly, already starting to dismiss the memories as just a schoolgirl fantasy.

Which was rather unfortunate, as in a higher dimension the Senior Partners had plans for Xander Harris - plans that were not pleasant to contemplate, not at all.

**Wolfram & Hart building, Los Angeles, California. Two hours later**

Red flattened himself against the wall, as the bullets whizzed past him. The guards at the end of the hallway were definitely determined to stop the commandos from getting through the door they were guarding.

Red sighed to himself, and squeezed off a couple of shots in return as several of his fellow soldiers worked their way down the hallway. { The things I do for my country... }

Not long ago, Red had been enjoying his leave. He had come to Los Angeles to spend time with Ametila; she had been able to get a couple of evenings off from work, and they had hoped for a fun couple of days together...

Still. They had been out at the Griffin Observatory stargazing, when his constant companion had interrupted. Every member of Siberian Trip Wire was required to always have his or her cell phone nearby, when on leave or not in the field. The ringing that came from it was sometimes dreaded, and sometimes welcomed by the members who carried said communications device on their person.

Red, although he sometimes welcomed the adrenaline rush from his job - after all, he was a Navy SeAL - had definitely not welcomed this interruption to his date. Ametila had not been happy, either; she wasn't stupid, and by this time had a pretty good idea as to what her boyfriend did for a living. The demon waitress knew that whatever had prompted the call, would most likely consume the time she had set aside for the two of them...

Of course she had been right; when Red had learned what was going on, well - he fully believed in Cleburne's creed that when one of their people was in trouble, everyone rode in to the rescue. He had taken Ametila back to her apartment, and after a quick kiss goodbye had hurried to the point where STW was setting up a base in Los Angeles.

Riley Finn had already arrived and was setting up the S&R operation, trying to pull together the loose elements of STW that could get to Los Angeles on such short notice. Red knew that there were more elements on the way, Cleburne was rocketing across the Atlantic in his rush to get to the City of Angels - but in a situation like this, time was of the essence. The operation had to be launched as soon as possible, and thus couldn't wait for the additional forces.

Red had taken command, and quickly completed the work Finn had started. The first order of business had to been to learn as much as possible, from Rachael and the others. Also, as much information as they could gather on Wolfram & Hart's activities had been gathered. Once that was done, a quick raid had been launched.

They had timed the raid to go off about 3 am. A raid in broad daylight might be too hard to explain - and going in at this time, Red hoped to minimize any possible public questions that needed to be answered later. The soldier knew that this was a gamble, at that time of the morning vampires were most likely to be moving around - but he accurately judged that once they got into the building, the time of day wouldn't make a difference as to the number of vampires present.

The two dozen commandos had entered the Wolfram & Hart building through the parking garage, and were making their way up to the office suites where they believed Xander was. Well - *hoped* was a better description, the intelligence available for this op was much more sketchy than Red was used to dealing with, and he silently hoped it wouldn't come back to haunt him later when this was all over.

At any rate, Byrne heard the gunfire from the guards up ahead slacking off, as some of the enemy combatants were forced to reload their weapons. Red and two other commandos took advantage of the opportunity to slip around the corner, and spray that end of the hallway with a burst from their assault carbines.

Behind them Riley stepped forward, and tossed a grenade down the hall. The explosion silenced the remaining guards there. The STW commandos then advanced down the hallway to the doorway leading upstairs. Needless to say, they knew better than to take the elevators in such a situation. Elevators were too likely to be stalled between floors by those defending the building.

Red and his team made their way up the floors up their objective. Every once in a while, they would stop on a floor to change stairwells. This acted to shake up the defenders of the building. After all, the commandos being used by Wolfram & Hart were clearly not strangers to their line of work.

And so, despite all the efforts of the bad guys, the Siberians slowly but surely made their way to the office of Lilah Morgan.

Red knew from talking to Rachael and Oz that this was the attorney who had delivered the threat to Xander. So Byrne figured this was the best place to find the answers he was seeking and maybe, just maybe, Alexander Hall himself.

After several minutes, they arrived at the floor of their destination. The door to the floor was opened, and the commandos kept themselves hidden for a few seconds.

Riley then peered around the door, using a small mirror stuck to a short pole. "Clear!" he announced.

Red motioned, and the commandos made their way into the lobby of the floor. The men stayed close to the walls and shadows. Their caution was proven justified, when several shots rang out from above their positions. Several enemy guards and commandos were overlooking the balcony on them.

"I hate being on the lower ground..." Red grumbled. He returned fire, as did his comrades. After several seconds, the defenders of the building were driven back, and the STW operatives resumed their advance to Ms. Morgan's office.

Several figures were suddenly visible through the glass windows. One of them looked to be restrained in a chair...

{That's gotta be him! } Red thought. { Okay, showtime... }

The commandos quickly moved into position around the door. Riley and Red looked at each other for a second, and then nodded. Riley reached over and opened the door...

...and they found themselves standing in the parking garage, exactly where they had started from ages ago. All of the commandos looked around in confusion, and Red felt a pounding pain behind his forehead. He heard Riley next to him checking the magazine on the soldier's weapon.

The Iowan said in complete disbelief, "This is impossible, I have all the ammo I started out with - it's like I haven't used any yet! And that can't be, from all the fighting we just did-"

"Gentlemen?"

Red and the others turned to the source of the voice addressing them, and saw Lilah Morgan standing there.

"You're standing on private property with lethal weapons, and you do not have a warrant to do so. As a lawyer, it's my professional duty to inform you that as such, you're committing a crime. And if you have any funny ideas of trying to force your way upstairs? Please be assured that while you were undergoing your little magical mystery mind tour, enough security was moved into place to turn any such attempt into a bloodbath..."

Lilah smiled. "And of course, *that* will lead to unfortunate publicity, that I'm sure none of us here wants. And who knows what'll happen, after that? So I suggest that you vacate the premises immediately. You have 30 seconds to depart, before this all becomes a media circus..."

With that, Lilah turned around and walked off. Red watched her victoriously strut away, knowing that something really supernaturally freaky had just happened. { Well, crap. Make that holy crap - Mother Hen is surely going to blow a gasket over this... }

**The private office of Lilah Morgan. A few minutes later**

Lilah walked into her office. "They're taken care of, but I don't know how long it'll be before they try something else," she announced.

Nathan Reed nodded, as several warlocks busied themselves in their endeavors. "It doesn't matter. We just needed enough time to get ready for this..." He turned to the warlock, who had been the one to perform the sleep spell on Xander earlier. "Is it done?" he asked in a no-nonsense tone.

The warlock's reply was in the form of consonant representations of a mathematical transfiguration formula. "Crv dr pff lr ploos pls vos strp umpt pls plsrts in uft frm pltz!"

The chant resulted in a glowing interdimensional portal opening in front of them; as the entire building was a hotspot of psychic energy, and the doorway to other worlds. Nathan then nodded to the guards, who were present in the room. They reached down and grabbed the unconscious Mr. Harris; they subsequently dragged him through the portal, followed closely by Reed and Morgan.

And just like last time, what awaited the former Zeppo on the other side of the rainbow was a fate even worse than death...

TBC...


	2. Chapter 26

**Part Twenty-six**

**The Imperial Palace, Pylea demon dimension. January 20, 2001**

In the area that had originally been destined to become the throne room of Cordelia Chase, the venerable monarch and princess of Pylea, the demon priests of the Covenant of Trombli were discussing affairs of state, and how to maintain order within the realm.

In other words, how to best murder the humans that tried to fight for their freedom...

The evil creatures were overwhelmingly stunned, however, when a portal appeared in the middle of the room - and five human beings stepped out of it. Well, to be accurate *four* of them stepped out; the fifth one was out cold, and carried across the threshold.

"COWS!" the second-in-command named Barshon instantly shouted, coming forward in outrage. As humans weren't people here - they were slaves and chattel. "How dare you profane this holy place, with your cursed presence-"

"Excuse me," Nathan Reed interrupted. "But I believe we have an appointment?" He looked around, trying to identify the head honcho here. "We're from-"

"It matters not where you come from! You dare create a gateway without permission of the clergy, you have the audacity to address us as equals-!?" He began to gesture to the Captain of the Guard.

"We're from Wolfram & Hart. Los Angeles branch," Lilah interrupted the demon's rants.

That instantly halted the demon priest's gesture - as the wolf, ram and hart were the trionic trinity in this dimension, that the Covenant served and worshipped. Still...

"You are not permitted to act freely here as you would within your own kingdom, female cow. That is the holy doctrine-" another of the priests started to say.

"Unless the Senior Partners declare otherwise, isn't that correct?" Lilah smiled in genuine pleasure, knowing that she was right *and* that she was pissing off the demons intensely.

Nathan subsequently took over, and explained why they were here and what was needed. To get the information the higher-ups wanted from Xander's mind, but not kill him before then. He quickly got annoyed at the belligerent attitude of the priests, {I see someone's got to explain to these people what the word 'teamwork' means...and how they have to get over their damn prejudices!}

Indeed, the demons were very reluctant to cooperate at first, but finally came around to what their new temporary job was. And then suddenly, the unconscious Xander Harris woke up, feeling an intense throbbing in his head.

{ Owww, man - what did I do this time? } the young man dazedly thought to himself. Then Xander's attention suddenly focused, when he heard some voices nearby...

"Very well. As you know, it is our purpose to help out the...Senior Partners. The agreement we have arrived at is sufficient for our purposes. How long do we have to accomplish our part of the agreement?"

Xander couldn't see who was speaking, but the voice sure sounded like a demon's. Xander felt more of his consciousness return. He felt his hands chained together behind him, and they rattled a little bit as he tested them.

The noise they made attracted attention. The voice returned, now clearly directed at him. "Behave yourself, cow scum. Or you will feel the wrath of the Covenant upon you, at once!"

Xander started blinking, his eyes trying to clear his vision. As he did so, the memories of his immediate past started returning to him. {Ah, nuts. Whoever put the whammy on me, I really owe him some serious payback! } he angrily thought to himself.

Harris could make out what looked like a couple of the lawyers from Wolfram & Hart, Lilah Morgan among them, standing several yards away from him. They were talking to a group of red-robed demons that did not look pleasant, in the least. They also, interestingly enough, radiated contempt towards the lawyers they were talking to. The lawyers in question were led by a bald man...

"Since he's here, time shouldn't be a problem for you. After all, those looking for him won't think to look here, they don't even know that this world exists - most likely. Or if they do, there's no way they can know this is where the prisoner is," Nathan Reed said. "The information that he..."

"It. You will use the correct designation, whilst within the borders of the realm," the chief demon priest named Silas corrected Reed.

"Fine, *it* has - will be good for at least three more years. And the sooner *it* breaks, the larger the credit value you'll have with the Senior Partners," Reed finished up.

The head demon smiled an evil smile and nodded at Reed. "Excellent. We will contact you soon, with word of the creature's whimpering and begging to be allowed to tell us all it knows..."

With that, the lawyers turned and left the chamber. Xander thought he saw a flash of pity cross Lilah's face for a second...

Silas approached him, with his minions not far behind. "Cow, you *will* tell us what we want to know. Otherwise, you will experience pain beyond what you could possibly imagine..."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Xander simply couldn't help it - he laughed at Silas. "Oh, come on. Even Ken had a better opening line than that! I'm sure you can do better, if you just try..."

Silas growled, "You will rue this moment you dared mock me, for the rest of your miserable cow life!" He glared at two guards who were in the room - and they hurried forward and dragged Xander out the door, heading for the dungeon interrogation room.

The young man winced at the rough treatment, but he knew that *much* worse would soon be in store. {Here we go. Guess the old saying wasn't exactly wrong - once a slave, always a slave.}

**The same place. Several hours later**

Silas read the parchment in front of him. Running a demon army and religious order generated quite a bit of paperwork, and quite a lot of his time was taken up with the day-to-day minutiae. Thus he delegated where he could, as evidenced earlier when the demon had received that captive from the Wolfram & Hart lawyers.

Of course, it would be beneath him to dirty his hands personally with interrogating the prisoner. After all - even though the power behind the lawyers was to be respected, there were some things that a head priest could not stoop to.

A knock on the door, caused Silas to look up from the parchments. "What is it?" he declared in an annoyed tone of voice.

His second-in-command, Barshon, entered hesitantly. "Lord Silas, I've been down to the dungeons where the cow we seek information from is being held. However...there is a problem."

Silas leaned back in annoyance. "A problem? A problem? The acolytes didn't kill it by accident, one would assume? Because we needed the information from that miserable thing, before it knew the final release from pain!"

Barshon shook his head. "No, my lord. Nothing like that. Actually the opposite."

Silas frowned. "The opposite? Surely the interrogators have gotten the information by now?" Those particular demons were 'gifted' at obtaining information from the cattle.

The minion hesitated for a second, not knowing quite how to put this. In fact - the whole thing was almost unbelievable! "I'm told - it is almost as if the cow is not taking their efforts seriously. They told me..." he trailed off.

"What?" Silas snapped.

"They think...it's laughing at them. That it's...making fun of their techniques..." Barshon said carefully, bracing himself for what was about to come.

And he wasn't disappointed by the results.

"WHAT?" Silas shouted out, standing up in outrage. "We are being mocked by a *cow*!?" The head priest fumed in disbelief for a few seconds. "When was the last time this happened?" he growled out.

Barshon actually blanched a little bit, before answering his superior. "A century ago, at least. An impudent youth taunted one of the priests. He was promptly punished by having his tongue cut out, and jawbone ripped off."

Silas sighed. "Since we are told that this cow needs to tell us things, obviously we cannot do the same thing in this situation. Barshon!" He turned and faced his subordinate.

"Yes, lord?" was the quick answer.

"Take personal charge of the interrogation. Do not be gentle, but do not damage it such that the information cannot be learned. I have the utmost confidence in you."

Barshon smiled in relief. "Yes, my lord." He then turned and left the chambers.

**LAX International Airport, Los Angeles, California. January 21, 2001**

The jet taxied up to the hangar. Several military policemen stood around the area, while the Navy SEAL nicknamed Red waited for the plane to stop moving. And the man was not looking forward to this conversation; he knew that his superior would very unhappy at the recent turn of events in the City of Angels.

Not that USN Commander Michael Byrne was all that happy about it, either.

Like Cleburne, he believed that a good unit never deserted one of its own. As the U.S. military's motto was 'no man gets left behind'. Even where that man had directly gotten himself into trouble, and was going to receive the mother of all ass-chewings when this was all over...

From what he knew, Lt. Hall had certainly got himself into one heck of a mess. Red liked the kid, just about everyone who'd had long-term contact with him in the Siberian Trip Wire did. They all knew he had been dealt a rough hand in life, and deserved better than he got. Red, like so many others, was hoping for better days for their compatriot...

Which was one of the reasons he'd been upset by the turn of events in the basement garage of Wolfram & Hart. Red wasn't entirely sure about what had transpired, but he knew enough to know that everything wasn't kosher. He also knew that this would make the colonel even angrier.

The jet had barely come to a stop, when the door was opened from the inside and the built-in steps popped out. Cleburne was the first one off the plane, followed by Gunny and a man that Red did not recognize. Byrne mentally prepared himself for what was to come.

"Report!" Cleburne said tensely, when he got close enough to Red.

The SEAL handed a piece of paper over to his superior. "Here's a copy of the email he sent you, sir."

Cleburne took the paper and raised an eyebrow. "How did *you* get this, if it was addressed to me?"

"The Wizard figured out your password and logged into your account," Red replied with a shrug.

Cleburne didn't say anything, as he read the message till he finished. His eyes went wide at the end, "Damn it, I hate to say this - but that kid's surely got cojones! I'll give him that - not much brains, mind you, but definitely stones the size of Oliver North's..." He turned and started towards the nearby car, as Red and the others quickly followed suit.

"Who else is here?" was the next question asked from the leader of the group.

"We've got the kid's companions in crime over in a nearby hangar. Marcum and the Wizard arrived about an hour ago, she's meeting with them. One of Weitz's handlers is en route." They all got into the car, with Red driving, and started down the runaway.

"What about the...rescue mission that wasn't?" Cleburne clearly had to think for a second about what to call it.

"I still don't know what the hell happened, Colonel. I'm telling you, even now, the battle in that building was as real to me as the feel of this steering wheel is right now. Definitely some kind of spooky stuff going on," Red said, as the car pulled up in front of their destination. They quickly went into the hangar. 

Various people met them. Oz, Rachael and Bentallo were off to one side, looking dejected as well as...outcasts. In the middle of the hangar was Esther Marcum, the child genius Irving Hollins, Riley Finn and various other commandos pouring over various maps and discussing possible options.

Cleburne looked over the two groups, to see which one he would address first. After a few seconds he decided and walked over, with his companions following, to where Esther was.

"So - what the hell happened at the lawyers' lizard shack?" the Marine demanded.

Esther looked up at the Marine colonel. "Well, Dr. Hollins has a theory."

Cleburne turned and looked at the diminutive genius. "I'm listening."

"It appears from what our men tell me, that they clearly believed they were actually attacking the law firm's offices. However, we know that was not the case. They were merely *convinced* that the actions in question actually took place..."

Hollins frowned. "I had considered an illusion spell, but several of the mages in our employ examined the commandos - and found no evidence of magic being used upon them. Also, physical exams show no foreign substances in their bodies to account for what they saw. Therefore my conclusion is - that they were subjected to some sort of psionic projection, telepathic images fed into their minds."

Cleburne raised an eyebrow at that. "Mind games? Do those lawyers have that capacity?"

"In light of what's happened, I would now say so," Hollins answered evenly.

Cleburne muttered under his breath. "I don't *suppose* we know of a way to counteract it, do we?" The look on both Hollins' and Marcum's faces was all the answer the Siberian agent needed.

"What about the stargate people?" Red suddenly asked.

Marcum shook her head, after getting confused for a moment with the popular TV show. "No, they're more into remote viewing, nothing like this..." She peered at the man who had accompanied Cleburne and Gunny back from Rome. "What's he doing here?" she asked with a sharp tone.

"We talked about this before, Esther. We bumped into Cyrus in Rome, and I took advantage of the situation to bring him on board."

"Without consulting me?" the black woman asked, with a distasteful look on her face. Cyrus just smiled in return.

"Look, I know you don't like him or what he stands for. And that we'll get into a big argument over it later, once we get the kid back. But everything, and I do mean *everything* can wait until that's accomplished..."

Esther looked furious for a second, then calmed down. "All right, but we *will* talk later."

"Speaking of which..." Cleburne turned his attention to Oz and the others, as he walked over to where they were. "Okay, what the *hell* was going through your little brains, when you people initiated this whole crazy mess?" he asked in a sharp tone of voice.

Oz looked at the male secret agent, his face preternaturally calm. "Faith got captured by the enemy. We weren't gonna just leave her there."

Cleburne rolled his eyes. "Damn it, are you guys nuts? Or did all that time playing in that crappy high school musical band, completely rot your brain?" Cleburne put his hands on his hips, and almost growled at Xander's companions. "Making it worse, you got the kid all loco too!"

Oz moved to right in front of Cleburne, and even if his features didn't show it - he finally had a target for the rage the young man had been feeling ever since Xander had been lost to the demonic law firm, and so decided to demonstrate his feelings about it. "This is all your fault, you know. Hiding the news about Faith from him-"

"Now wait a minute-" Cleburne tried to interrupt.

Oz actually made an expression. "No. I'm tired of you and your men in black playing games with our lives, with Xander's life! If you'd just been honest with him, he wouldn't have had a reason to hatch this scheme of his! He wouldn't be in the clutches of those damn lawyers right now..."

Gunny, standing behind Cleburne, was surprised - he couldn't recall a time of hearing the musician/werewolf say anything with so much passion. It made him more than a bit uneasy too, {Something tells me this is gonna get ugly.}

"Exactly. Not that I was in the loop about it, but I'll bet this is exactly what the Committee was afraid of! You should have told us what was going on!" Cleburne shot back.

"Hell, no! My first loyalty is to Xander, not to you James Bond wannabes," Oz retorted.

"Your loyalty to the guy should have stopped him from going on this damn fool's errand in the first place!" Cleburne then turned to Rachael. "And you! Weitz, you of all people should have known better..." 

The woman looked around, and saw one of her professional colleagues from the embassy that had arrived, and was staring at her. And Rachael didn't need to be a psychic to guess that Moshe Greenberg wasn't happy to be here, and that he wasn't going to be saying wonderful things about her to the Washington station chief later on. {Well, screw him!}

Focusing, Rachael just looked back at Cleburne defiantly. "He's loyal to the people he calls friends and loved ones. You could benefit from that viewpoint, in my opinion."

Oz stepped forward, almost pushing Cleburne back. "It's both his biggest strength and greatest weakness, you know. He's always there for his friends. Xander wasn't going to let Faith down, any more than I would have."

Behind the colonel, Gunny noted that Oz's hair actually seemed to be longer than it had been a few seconds before. {Damn it.}

"Look, Wolfie, she's dead. As in of the dearly departed, already. There's not exactly much that can be done for her..." Cleburne actually started to push the werewolf back.

"It's been over a year since you met Xander, and you still don't get it? There's a lot more to this world, than just the physical universe! Her soul is trapped, imprisoned - maybe even being tortured..." Oz growled out, he actually *growled* as his face showed the start of the transformation into a werewolf - just as it had when Daniel had confronted Rachael back at the apartment of the Furies.

"It was a trick. A trick, damn it! They gave you all one hell of a snow job. Faith LeHane's soul in Heaven, where it's supposed to be!" Cleburne retorted, but nonetheless moving backwards. "If you idiots had just come to me, I could have told you that!" As Cleburne's temper rose, you could make out more and more of his South Carolina accent.

Rachael's attention was suddenly drawn to Esther, as a look of shame crossed the face of the government official. "Really," the Israeli woman said, still staring at Marcum. "And you would have been okay with just leaving her there, if you'd been wrong? Don't tell me that it's impossible - you would have looked at the so-called big picture, and might not have done a damn thing..."

Oz was now definitely beginning to fully wolf out.

"My son," Monsignor Bentallo's voice had a definite ring of authority behind it, as he came before the Garou. "Now is not the time for us to quarrel amongst ourselves, we must rescue Mr. Hall from his current situation..."

Somehow Oz was able to regain control of his wolf side, and the transformation was slowly reversed. The uneasy silence between the group was then broken by Rachael's voice. "You knew!" she said coldly, more of a statement of fact than a question.

"I told you it was a trick..." Cleburne started to say, but stopping when he noticed that the target of Rachel's statement was not himself. He turned and followed Rachael's stare.

Towards Mrs. Esther Marcum.

"Esther?" he said.

The woman uneasily shifted her weight. After a few seconds she spoke up, "Yes, all right. I knew - we picked up rumors of what had happened a few months back, and they were later confirmed. Not long after Thanksgiving, actually. The enemy really does have her soul, like Mr. Osbourne said-"

"And you didn't tell us?!" Cleburne's statement came out as an accusation, as opposed to a question. A look of shocked betrayal was on his face, as he stared at the woman he'd called friend and ally.

"It was decided-" she started to say.

"It was decided. Ah, exactly *who* decided to keep this quiet? Because don't you think that was something you might have wanted to share with those of us, fighting and dying in the trenches? I mean - come on, a soldier down in the field, and you hid that from us? From *me*?"

Esther tried to explain to her long-time friend. "There was a collective decision made by the Committee, to temporarily withhold the information. We argued over it, actually, and I for one wasn't happy with the outcome - but it was felt..."

"That it just wasn't worth rocking the boat over," Rachael said sarcastically.

"Say we believe you. What *exactly* have you and the organization done about getting Faith out of there?" Oz asked.

Esther looked uncomfortable. "Obviously, not enough..."

Cleburne interrupted her, "We *are* going to talk about this later. Count on it! But for now, let's concentrate on getting the kid back. We need to find out where he is, and how to get around the mind games those lawyer bastards are playing with us..."

**The dungeons of the Imperial Palace, Pylea. The same time**

"So, you been doing this long? 'Cause to be honest with you, your technique reminds me of an amateur, or maybe even a beginner. Want me to give you some tips...?"

Xander had been here in the dungeons for a while now. Already, he had slipped into his old habits as the demons had started working on him; for example, not thinking of anything beyond the next five minutes. Thus, the recent conversation with Dawn Summers no longer figured in his thoughts; Harris wasn't even sure if it hadn't been all a dream now anyway, but he didn't regret any part of what he'd said if it happened to be otherwise.

"Cow, I do not need lessons from you. All I require from you is the information we seek," Barshon said to Xander, who was hanging chained by the manacles from the ceiling.

"You sure? 'Cause I'm telling you, fella - Ken would be having himself a laugh riot right now, at what you've done so far," Xander smirked in response.

Barshon's reply was to press the red-hot iron poker he was holding against the former Scooby's side.

He was rewarded with a scream from Harris, but after a few seconds Xander managed to catch his voice. "Ah, nothing like that to give you a good wakeup call in the morning..."

Barshon jabbed the hot poker against Xander's skin again, and once more the former Scooby screamed in pain. This time, for much longer.

Then the demon priest slowly walked around his victim, and beheld a sight that no one save the Transuding Furies and various medical doctors had seen - since Xander's return from that hell dimension.

The intricate pattern of old scars and wounds, on Xander Harris's naked back and chest.

Had Buffy, Willow or Cordelia seen them, they almost certainly would have screamed out loud in horror at the sight. After all - nearly five years in a hell world is a long time to suffer whippings, and beatings, and various other tortures inflicted by the slavers...

But Barshon was only interested in the fact that his target was obviously no stranger to pain. "You have been interrogated before," he said simply.

Xander grinned. "Now we're getting somewhere!"

The demon ignored that. "Regardless, you will tell me what I want to know."

Harris sighed. "Just when there was light at the end of the tunnel..."

Barshon motioned to his side, and a demon wearing a suit and tie scuttled forward. The upper echelons of Wolfram & Hart had wisely determined that leaving a human associate from the firm to monitor the interrogation would be - unwise. The demon priests had enough trouble accepting the LA representatives of Wolfram & Hart, after all...

There was no reason to constantly remind them of the human involvement in this assignment. So a demon with near-photographic memory from the accounts department had been sent here, to act as liaison.

Barshon nodded at his companion. "Ask your questions."

The demon, who interestingly enough went by the name of Eli, cleared his throat. "Okay, what are the best performing stocks within the New York, London and Tokyo markets over the next two years?"

Xander burst out loud with honest-to-goodness laughter, despite the pain from Barshon's attentions still present in his body. For his part, Barshon stood off to the side with a look of puzzlement on his face. "Stocks?" he asked, mostly to himself.

"You mean to tell me, that all this trouble your people went through - it was just to improve your firm's stock portfolio?" Xander tilted his head towards Barshon. "Dude, whatever they're paying you, you can get more. As they're living proof that there's one born every minute..."

Barshon's response was to once again apply the red-hot poker to Xander's bare flesh. After a few minutes of screaming, Harris gasped out a question. "Is it just me, or is that poker getting cold?"

The second-in-command finally allowed his temper to get the better of him. Dropping the poker to the ground he reached out and backhanded the prisoner, hard. {Cursed animal! How *dare* you speak thus!? }

Eli actually winced, as the chains securing the prisoner creaked in protest from the sudden backward movement of their occupant. The accountant thought for a second he could hear a bone snapping, but Xander's face showed no great increase in pain and so he couldn't be sure.

"Hey, just heat it up again, no reason to get all snippy," was all that Xander said.

Barshon inwardly cursed to himself. The question asked may have made no sense to him, but then to this particular demon that wasn't the point. The point was the prisoner's insolence, when ordered to speak.

The deputy head of the Covenant was determined to break this human. The cattle were not supposed to defy the priests in such a manner; the mere concept, it went against everything that Barshon had been taught and believed in. Silas's minion quickly regained control over himself, as he stepped forward and pulled out a knife.

"Cow, you *will* learn respect and to respond to our questions. Or else I will start cutting off body parts..."

Eli grew nervous, seeing the priest starting to lose it like this. Even though the accountant was no saint - in fact, he liked to dismember virgins during his off-hours, purely for his own amusement - he felt this wasn't appropriate. Not to mention, professional...

Thus, as Barshon was about to cut off one of Xander's fingers - and seeing how the slave was steeling himself against the upcoming pain - Eli said, "This is pointless. You can physically hurt him as much as you want, it's not going to get you anywhere! Eventually, he'll just infuriate you so much - that you'll kill him out of blind anger. And *then* what do you think is going to happen to you?"

The red-robed demon paused, looking at the accountant and then his intended victim. He hated to admit it, but his companion had a point. "Then what do you suggest?"

Eli had a thoughtful expression on his face. "We have a saying in my world. Namely, there's more than one way to skin a cat..."

Barshon's attention fully went from the prisoner to the demon accountant. "Yes, of course there are many ways to skin a cat. I personally prefer it slow-roasted over an open fire, as it makes the skin extra crispy. But what has this to do with the impudence of the cow?"

Eli sighed. Sometimes, dealing with demons from off Earth could be so frustrating. "I'm just saying, that sometimes you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar?"

Barshon just stared at Eli, with a look of confusion on his face. And neither of the demons noticed Xander pulling at the chains that restrained him. "I do not understand. How do you propose we use honey to torture it?" Barshon asked in puzzlement, gesturing absently towards the prisoner.

Harris silently chuckled. {Clearly, these guys have never met Anya!} The chains were firmly in place, but now had a little leeway from Barshon's blow. Xander gently tugged at them, to see if he could possibly make something happen.

Eli shook his head. He knew enough to say nothing that would cause the anger the demon priest was feeling to switch from Xander to himself, such as calling him dumb. "No, it's a saying back home-"

"The kingdom where this cattle comes from?" Barshon asked, with a look of annoyance on his face.

"Amongst other things," Eli replied. "But that's not important. What I'm trying to say is, that sometimes an indirect approach works better than the brute force one."

"But brute force is so much more satisfying," Barshon said, with almost a petulant tone.

Eli sighed. "I know, but there's nothing to say that you can't use brute force after you get what you want, is there?"

Barshon actually smiled at that. "Yes, that would be most gratifying..." the demon said, as he took several steps towards the prisoner. Barshon turned slightly, "I could then show you proper respect, with no concerns about what happened agach..."

The priest's tirade was cut short, as Xander jerked down hard with his arms. The manacle holding his right arm actually dropped down a bit as the chain loosened up, now only slightly secured to the roof. Xander quickly swung his arm, in such a way that a loop of the chain circled around Barshon's neck.

Harris jerked tightly with his right arm, and choked Barshon for all he was worth. His left arm shot forward trying to grab the key to the chains, that his tormentor was carrying on his person. Xander had noticed the demon put the key in his front pocket, and had immediately noted it for future reference.

But Xander's vision was blocked by Barshon's struggling body. And the demon, although thick-skinned, was clearly in pain from Xander's actions - so he pulled with all his might, to escape the prisoner's clutches.

Harris just applied more pressure, he had hoped to snap the priest's neck quickly and then take the key from the dead body. {Will you just *die* already, you filthy demon bastard?}

Eli's eyes grew wide as saucers, at what he saw happening before him. He stepped back, almost falling over as he did so. "Help! Help! Guards!" he shouted out.

"Damn it..." Xander muttered under his breath. This was taking more time than he'd expected.

Xander suddenly heard a rush of shuffling feet outside his field of vision. He tried to shift his body, so that Barshon would act as a shield. But the priest struggled enough that Xander was unable to see the blow that viciously struck the side of his head.

Harris slumped down, releasing Barshon as he did. And as he blacked out, Xander could distantly hear Eli yelling for the demon guards not to kill him...

**Los Angeles, California. January 22, 2001**

The door to the warehouse splintered inwards not long after midnight, as Angel used all of his inhuman strength against it. Gunn, Wesley, Darla and Gwen then followed him into the warehouse.

"Oh, balls! You lot again?" was the reply of the bleached-blonde vampire standing in the middle of the warehouse, bossing around various other vamps.

"Spike," Angel growled at his grandchilde. The Irish-born vamp hadn't stopped looking for William the Bloody and Drusilla, ever since the showdown at the nursery not long ago. They had done so much that deserved payback, and Angel felt that the time for it had arrived.

The former Angelus also felt that since he had made Dru, who in turn had made Spike, that this was ultimately his responsibility - and so, he was the one who had to deliver said payback.

The past day or so Angel had been relentless, once he had been assured that Darla was all right - well, for the time being anyway, in his quest for information concerning the Sid and Nancy of the vampire world. The word had quickly spread through the underworld of Los Angeles that the souled vampire was currently playing for keeps, and would remember any help or interference given in his search.

Naturally enough, given Spike's habit of not fully paying his debts and his people skills, there weren't that many people or demons looking to shelter the blonde vampire and his sire. The only question they had was who to give the information about this to.

After all, Wolfram & Hart was looking hard for the undead duo also. The rumor was that the Senior Partners did *not* like the fact that they were going to have to needlessly expend resources, in rebuilding their Special Projects division...

In any case, the demon in question had been closest to the Fang Gang and knew some of Angelus' past. And so, Angel had received the information as to where Spike was holed up, before anyone else.

Spike had been trying to recruit new minions, as any Master vamp would in this situation. The problem was the only ones willing to become so, were those vampires who had just risen. They were the only ones who weren't afraid, mostly through ignorance, of the combined threat of both Angel and Wolfram & Hart.

And they generally weren't the ones you wanted backing you up in a fight with the threat that had just busted through Spike's door.

"Get them!" Spike yelled at the dozen or so minions he had been able to recruit.

"Spike. They're just going to get my clothes dusty, before I stake you," Angel declared angrily.

Gunn raised an eyebrow at Angel's comment. {Now what's all that about? Huh, must be a vamp thing, to make quips like that durin' a fight! } he thought, not knowing about the tangled history the male vampire had shared with Buffy Summers.

But his thoughts on the subject were cut short as a vampire rushed up, trying to tackle him. {Damn! Like Harris used to say - get yer head in the game, asshole! }

The vamp's inexperience clearly showed though as Gunn easily dodged to the side, actually tripping the vampire. The newly-risen undead fell forward, cursing as he did so. A loud thud announced the vamp's arrival on the floor of the warehouse.

"Oh man, this is just sad!" Gunn said almost with pity, as his arm flashed in a downward trajectory and a stake hit its intended target. A few seconds later, a pile of exploded dust was all that remained for Gunn to pity.

The Gunnster quickly looked up to survey the scene. Angel and Darla were literally tearing through any bloodsucker foolish enough to get within arm's reach of them. Gwen was busily, with almost glee present on her face, zapping a vamp that had tried to attack her - while Wesley was fending off his own vampire attacker.

Gunn shook his head for a second. He had really thought this would be harder. {Hey, but who's complaining? Long as they're ashes 'n I still have a pulse, we're frosty! } He hurried over to help Wesley.

"Daddy and Grandmother are back, but they're not happy. Oh, Miss Edith says they're very cross, and want to 'urt us. Don't let them hurt us, my precious Spoike..." Drusilla whimpered out to William the Bloody, as they watched Angel's Avengers working their way through the vamp minions.

"Don't worry, poodle, that poncy brooder 'n his band of idiots won't harm a single hair on yer head - or that doll o' yours!" Spike said with more confidence than he really felt at the moment. The number of minions he had under his control had dropped by over half, in the last minute. "Bloody hell, can't I find any good help these days?" he muttered.

A vampire flew by Spike. {Oh, bleedin' heck - this is just like back at the big poofter's hotel!} he cogitated, as the vampire's clothes sizzled. Telling Spike just what, or more accurately who, had happened to this particular minion.

He turned from looking at the now-whimpering vampire to see the leather-clad brunette thief known as Gwen Raiden, advancing on him and Dru with an evil look in her eye.

"Hello, Spike. I've heard quite a bit about you - both of you, actually. An old friend of yours would no doubt want me to say hello, since he couldn't be here personally-"

And all of a sudden, Drusilla screamed.

Everyone stopped for a moment, distracted by the insane female vampire's continuous howls of incredible pain. She yelled and screeched and hollered without stopping, as Miss Edith and the stars whispered their horrible secrets into her head.

Finally though, the vampiress calmed down enough to become coherent. "The kitten! Oh, oh, the kitten's back - but he has 'orribly sharp claws, and is all grown up now! No, no, no!" Dru screamed again in response to Gwen's statement.

"What?" Spike was now confused by Dru's rantings. He loved her dearly, but at times like this he found her quite frustrating. {I swear, this is just like what 'appened with that bloody mob in Prague.}

Drusilla paid him no attention. The voice of the First Evil, which had remained silent in her head for over a year now, suddenly spoke up - telling her that things had changed. That she and her childe had to get out of here, and continue on with the plan she had learned about in 1998 - namely, to kill Willow and Xander.

For his part, Spike simply put the confusion out of his mind, and prepared to defend his beloved. "Just for the record, luv - I don't care who you know or what sparks come from your fingers, you're just another Happy Meal on legs to me," he said defiantly to Angel's new seer.

But Spike suddenly found himself facing more than he'd originally thought, as he saw a flash of blonde hair off to his right. And he barely managed to block the punch that came from there. "Spike, did we teach you no manners? Don't forget your great-grandmother!" Darla snarled.

William the Bloody quickly noted the situation he now faced. Wesley and Gunn were finishing up the vampire that had been fighting the ex-Watcher. Angel was now advancing on a full stride towards him, brushing off dust from his jacket as he did so. Darla and Gwen were only a few feet away, clearly ready to attack him and Dru.

"Well, this is just great. Those damn lawyers really got me into a right mess, didn't they? I just wish I could go back and kill them all-" Spike started to rant.

Now, using the w-word is generally not a good idea for members of the supernatural world - human or demon. Because in this case, Spike kinda got his wish granted, although not from a vengeance demon. Instead, it came from the several black-clad commandos bursting in through the same door that the Fang Gang had used, just a few minutes earlier.

"There they are. Terminate them with extreme prejudice!" The leader called Agent Hauser called out, looking at Spike and Dru.

"Oh, bloody hell!" Spike shouted to the heavens. "Somebody, give me a break..."

Angel's attention didn't waver from Spike, despite the noise the Wolfram & Hart commandos were making. "Not now," he said out loud.

Wesley and Gunn were not so focused as their boss was, after all they were much closer to the commandos than he was. "If you would be so kind, we have some prior business to conduct with Spike and his paramour. Could you possibly come back later?" Wesley actually slipped into the polite English good manners he had been raised with.

Hauser just stared at Wesley for a second. {Does he actually think we're just going to leave? After what those two did? } The agent appeared to think about it for a second, then gave Wesley his answer by punching him hard in the face.

Or at least he *tried* to, for even though Wesley had used the mannerisms from his younger years, he wasn't the milquetoast he had been when he had originally come to Sunnydale several years earlier.

Thus Wesley managed to dodge the punch, and the fight was on.

Angel was diverted from his goal, when two commandos tackled him. As he fell to the ground, he could see Darla and Gwen moving in on Spike.

Darla and Spike started exchanging blows. "I always knew you were a mistake, William. Only someone as addle-brained as Dru here, would have chosen to sire you-"

"Don't insult her, you bloody jumped-up whore!" Spike yelled, landing a particularly powerful blow to Darla's face in his rage. Darla stumbled back, and Gwen stepped forward to take her place.

Only to have one of the commandos try to tackle her. Well - he actually *did* tackle her, but he instantly regretted it. As the man instantly started spasming, from his contact with the Electra Girl.

Gwen looked between Spike, who was starting to head to the back of the warehouse, and the still body of the commando. "Hell!" she muttered to herself.

The thing was, Gwen's time with STW *had* changed her from her old mercenary ways. Because she did give a damn about something other than her wallet now, it was one of the burdens to bear from becoming a white hat; and she wasn't going to kill someone like this. Thus Ms. Raiden headed over to the body and quickly did her version of CPR, restarting the commando's heart.

The seer then turned her attention to her fleeing enemy. By this time, both Angel and Darla had joined her. Most of the Wolfram & Hart commandos were out of commission, and the two who were still moving were being quickly dispatched by Wesley and Gunn. Hauser was laying where Angel had thrown him, out cold.

"Where did they go?" Angel asked.

The answer he received was the noise of an automobile - Spike's trusty old '59 DeSoto - roaring across the floor of the warehouse. The three of them barely had time to jump out of the way, before the car drove by and finished the demolition job that Angel had done on the doorway.

"NO!" Angel shouted and took off in pursuit, with Darla close behind him. The two of them ran with all their vampire speed, but the car Spike was driving only drew further and further ahead of them.

In the getaway vehicle, Spike glanced back at the pursuers. "Ya know, luv, I think it's time we split from LA. Maybe New Orleans, whaddya think? It's warm there this time o' year..."

Next to him Drusilla sat, clutching Miss Edith, talking to herself. "The kitten and the witch. They're behind this. They 'ave to pay for what they've done, they do..."

**The Imperial Palace, Pylea demon dimension. ****The same time**

Silas was stunned. That was the only way to describe his reaction, to what Barshon was telling him.

"It attacked you?" Silas asked in an incredulous tone.

"Yes my lord, it did," was the humble response.

"And it was able to actually touch you?"

Barshon bowed his head in shame, ready to give up his position and even his life in penance for his failure. "This also is true."

"And it was more than just a glancing blow?"

Barshon now felt completely ashamed. "It was able to restrain me, and almost cause me lethal injury. If not for the rapid intervention of the guards, I - I do not know what would have happened."

"And it still lives?"

"Damn straight!" That was Eli, who had accompanied Barshon to report what had happened. "The human can't tell us what we want to learn if he's dead, ya know. There's some kind of mojo in place we haven't cracked yet, that if he...it dies, the soul is summoned to somewhere we can't control..." Eli remembered too late not to refer to Xander as a he, when both priests glared at him for doing so.

Silas shook his head, still unable to believe what he had heard just now. "The information your superior seeks is truly this valuable?" he asked the demon accountant.

"Yeah, what's locked up tight in that particular head can make or break all of us - hey, you should know this guy's the subject of so many different prophecies, that it's almost impossible to keep track of 'em all..."

The head priest looked alarmed. "Prophecies? This cow is under scrutiny from the Powers That Be?" Then Silas almost looked terrified, "Wait, surely - it is not the cursed one?! The prisoner does not receive visions of the future from the Powers, does it?"

Eli quickly shook his head, briefly thinking of the young woman called Cordelia Chase - for Gwen's presence amongst the Fang Gang was not yet common knowledge. "No, no! Nothing like that."

Silas sighed with relief. "Good..." Then he scowled. "Things would be so much easier, if we could just kill it. Stick its head on the ramparts, as an example to the other slaves..." {Perhaps I should put a slave collar around its neck, and threaten to blow its head off if it does not cooperate? No - that is too risky. The damned animal might very well try to kill itself, to escape answering our questions.} The head of the Covenant sat down in the chair of the middle of the room, and propped his hand under his chin.

After a few seconds, he turned back to Eli. "Why did you stop Barshon from removing the creature's fingers? I would think that would be an ideal way to cause enough pain, for it to tell you what you want to know..."

Eli's heart sank even further. {Do these guys have *no* clue on how to extract information from a hostile and determined captive? I'm beginning to think that their reputation really is overrated here! } "It would work on most captives, yeah, but our information on this particular human tells us that *it* is extremely gifted at dealing with torture. The only thing cutting off the guy's fingers would accomplish, would be for you to clean up a messy pool of blood off the floor..."

"That has never bothered us before. And it would act to keep the other cattle in line," Barshon spoke up defiantly.

"And what happens if it still refuses to tell us what we want to know?" Eli asked, shaking his head - and *really* wanting to go home to his cubicle in LA. "This human is tough. Apparently it withstood five years of slavery, with intense physical torture the whole time! And back home, nothing we did could make it crack..."

Silas didn't look up when he replied, "Then what do you suggest?"

Eli thought for a second. "Perhaps we could...trick the man somehow. Make it tell us what we wanna learn, without it even knowing..."

Barshon snorted. "Somehow, I don't think that clever word games will suffice!"

Silas suddenly sat up straight. "Perhaps not, but I think I know of something else that might work..."

At that moment, the main doors to the chamber opened. Silas noticed what was coming through the door, and smiled. "And Barshon - I think I know how to avoid endangering any of us further during this interrogation."

**The dungeons of the Imperial Palace, Pylea. The same time**

Xander shifted uncomfortably, as he hung from the shackles that connected him to the ceiling. The demon priests, after a beating that had lasted for a *very* long time, had left the former Scooby alone to stew for a while. And the young man had no illusions that his treatment was going to get better, in any way, shape or form; he knew that his captors were just thinking up new methods of interrogation...

Harris tested the chains, but they held strong. The guards had obviously reinforced them, while he'd been unconscious-

"Hey there, sweetie, miss me? And just in case no one's said it, welcome to Pylea..."

Xander whipped his head around, and saw the image of a grinning Faith standing right in front of him. Or, rather, the First Evil. "You again?" He then sighed after making a point of yanking at his chains, "Haven't we been here before?"

Faith/the First nodded. "And no doubt, will be again. Because let's face it, tiger, you're just such a popular guy..."

Xander squinted at the First. "You're all dressed up as Faith again, huh. What, running out of ideas as to the people you can dress up as?"

Faith/the First put her hands on her hips and tilted her head and body at Xander, in that special way he had loved for his girlfriend to do back in high school. "Ah, c'mon beefcake - isn't she the one you're willing to go through all this for? I mean, after all, even though they're no Ken - these priests are wicked gifted at inflicting pain."

"I've seen worse," Xander commented dryly, but internally hating it how well the enemy could imitate someone he'd loved this way.

"Hey, no argument here, stud - you sure have. But Ken was a truly gifted guy at what he did - I gotta admit, I miss him. Did ya have to go and kill him already?" Faith/the First pouted.

"Well, it *did* come down to either me or him at the time. And to be honest with you, I much prefer a world where I'm still around! Ken living much longer wouldn't have been a good idea for my long-term survival," Xander replied. Even while being tortured, he was able to retain some of his sense of humor.

Faith/the First laughed in response. "That's what I like about you, Xan. Your sense of humor. I loved that about you, well that - and a few other things!" Faith/the First winked naughtily at Xander.

Xander promptly felt sick to his stomach at the behavior of the *thing* in front of him. "You sick bastard, you..." he growled.

But Harris was rewarded only with a smirk. "Oh, I've gotten under your skin have I? Looks like I'm not the only one..." She/it nodded her head at some of Xander's new wounds. "You really loved her, didn't you? I mean, being willing to go through all this - on the off-chance her soul would find peace?"

"Not that's any of your business, but I don't leave anyone behind," Xander muttered.

The First suddenly morphed from Faith, into the image of Buffy. "Oh, yeah, and I know all about that. Left you behind, didn't I?" it said with an evil smile.

"We've been through all this before, so I'm really not interested in going through it again. Don't you have a hobby or anything?" Xander asked, refusing to rise to the bait.

"Sure I do, it's you!" Buffy/the First replied with a laugh. "I mean, come on, you're the best show in town. And for me, the town is pretty damn big!" She/it started walking around Xander. The prisoner tried to keep the false Slayer in his line of sight, but she moved too fast for him.

"Fact is, I *know* I need to keep an eye on you. Something tells me you're dangerous, ya see. You and that redheaded witch-bitch. Don't know why, Xand, but I know you're both a big threat to my plans. People have been writing prophecies about you and Wills ever since before the fall of Troy, after all..."

Harris was startled by that for a moment, but nonetheless was able to keep his poker face intact. "What can I say? Guess I'm just a troublemaker at heart," Xander replied.

And then suddenly instead of Buffy, it was Sunnydale High principal H.R. Snyder standing in front of Xander. "That's all you ever were, all right - just a troublemaker. Constantly flouting the rules, and stirring things up-"

"Well, well, if it isn't Principal Snyder! I was wondering when you'd show up, as the First Boredom..." Harris interrupted with a sardonic grin.

Snyder/the First continued, ignoring that. "May as well face it - you needed to be taught a lesson, Harris. Because deep down? You're nothing but a whipping boy, raised by mongrels and set upon a sacrificial stone. Yes, you heard right, I said sacrifice. Because sacrifices need to be made, so that order can be maintained..."

"I know it's not actually you, Snyder, but I'm gonna say it anyway - I'm *really* glad you got eaten by a giant snake!" Xander snarked, fulfilling one of his fondest desires that he had missed out upon from that other world.

In less than a moment Snyder was gone, replaced by Mayor Richard Wilkins III. "Well, gosh!" the middle-aged man said in his own trademark way. He/it looked around at the state the interrogation room was in. "What have we here? Ewww, germs! Yucky, horrible things. I'm very disappointed in you, Mr. Harris. Hygiene is the name of the game, after all - didn't your parents ever teach you anything?"

Xander growled, "Yeah, they sure did. While I was growing up, I was in and out of hospital so often that they taught me how I only had myself to rely on! That's part of how I was able to eventually kill the guy you're currently imitating..."

Wilkins/the First chuckled. "Initiative! I like it. Golly, but I wish I'd recognized your potential back in the day! I had plenty of opportunities too, more's the pity. You'd have made a really splendid addition to my team! Y'know - I think I actually met you once as a child, did you know that? You were what...11, 12 years old? It was at a school function, or some such thing - yes, and your kiddie league baseball coach was yelling at you to quit fooling around and play ball. Too bad you never learned that lesson..."

Xander had no memory of the event, and so just shrugged. Or at least he tried to, as dangling from those shackles made that kinda difficult. "Whatever."

Wilkins/the First leaned forward. "You need to understand something - children are vital to our nation's future, young man. Do I have to emphasize that? Especially those young adults in Sunnydale and three unborn children, going by the name of Harris..."

Xander could read the unspoken threat clearly. "You try anything in that direction with your goddamn Bringers, I swear to God that I'll find some way to make you corporeal - and then I'll chop your friggin' head off!" he shouted. In the back of Xander's mind, he wondered if maybe the First knew more about the future than it was letting on.

The Mayor was replaced again by Faith. "Spunk, lover boy? You always had that. You also knew what had to be done. A strong survival instinct. You did what you had to do, to stay alive. Well, sweetie, that time has come again..."

Suddenly Xander yawned. "Blah, blah, blah. Find a new theme, First-y. You're starting to bore the shit outta me..."

Faith instantly morphed into someone else, that had haunted Xander's nightmares for years. The deceased demon slavemaster named Ken.

"You're bored? Well, you of all people should know that I can help you with *that* little problem..." the demon said, with that exact same tone of voice the former Scooby vividly remembered.

Xander tried to hurl himself forward, forgetting about the chains and manacles that held him firmly in place. His wrists started to bleed as Harris snarled, "You decided to look like *him*? Okay, now I'm *really* mad..."

"Temper, temper," Ken/the First smirked, noting the almost-hidden fear behind the angry mask that Xander presented to the world.

It was a sad fact that Xander, just like any other former slave, just couldn't help his anger/fear response. Personally abuse someone like that often enough, and the reflex is automatic. {I'm no one, I'm no one, I'm no one}

But human beings are almost unique, in that they can overcome their reflexes. By dint of sheer will, Xander Harris focused on the image of his tormentor, and said emotionlessly, "You're dead. You can't hurt me anymore."

Ken/the First smirked, "Do I look dead to you, human? You should know better..."

Xander shook his head. "You're just a false face, like all the others. I killed you..."

And slowly, Harris smiled. "I slid that knife across Ken's throat, just like it was made of butter. And I swear, killing him was one of the most enjoyable experiences of my life..." Then Xander said, "So - go ahead and look like that son of a bitch, I don't care. It's not gonna get you anywhere, no more than any other dead person you masquerade as..."

The one-time Slayerette subsequently had an epiphany, as he realized that the old saying was quite true.

That you can't ever really free slaves - they have to free themselves. And finally, he had done so; putting that part of his life behind him.

Completely.

From the look on his face, it was obvious the First Evil recognized it too. Thus, it quickly metamorphosed into another dead person - a vampire.

And not just any old vampire - but one that was beyond the curse of human features, and had been for centuries.

The Master.

Xander started, as the Master/the First began to walk around him. "Interesting, I have to say," the undead image of Heinrich Nest said.

"What?" Xander had never met this particular vamp personally, but he had seen pictures - and thus, Harris knew who he was.

The first arch-villain he'd ever fought against, during sophomore year. A soulless demon that belonged in Hell, roasting in torment there forever - for all the things he'd done.

"Your attitude. For a member of the so-called white hats, you appear to have these murderous tendencies that...do not quite belong. That definitely tarnish your shining armor, so to speak. And I should know - I personally witnessed the Crusades, after all! I can tell how you have a core of pure darkness. In fact, I'd say you would make one *legendary* vampire, one that would rival even my own accomplishments..."

Then the First Evil came forward, and appeared to sniff at Xander's wrist. "But alas, it would seem that won't ever happen."

Despite himself, Xander was intrigued. {What's the First trying to do here? Confuse me to death? } "Why not?"

"I'm told your blood is now absolutely foul for my kind, after your little adventure in England. And any of my children who try to drink you, will most likely instantly explode into dust..." 

The Master turned into Faith again, trying to press its advantage. "So what do you say, boy toy? What with everything that's happened - I could make you into a god, if you want-"

"There's women I know who've said I already *am* a god. In the bedroom, that is!" Xander interrupted, somehow keeping a straight face with that pithy remark.

It was obviously the right thing to do, as for the first time - Faith/the First looked mad. She/it snarled out, "Let me clear something up for you, Xand. It's either my way, or the highway for you."

"Meaning?"

"Either you join me, or you. Will. Die. Because we both know that unlike last time, there ain't gonna be any last-minute miraculous rescues here! No one you know has clue-one about this world. Not that asshole vamp, or his human stooges. Not your men in black wannabe friends, either. And hell, even if they knew where you were - they don't know how the heck to get to this dimension! I'm the only out you've got."

Xander shook his head. "You must really be getting desperate! If that didn't work before, what makes ya think it's gonna work now?"

Yet again, the First Evil altered its appearance - into someone Xander hadn't thought of in years.

Jenny Calendar, a.k.a. Janna of the Kalderash clan of gypsies.

Xander's gut tightened, at seeing the face and form of his old high school computer teacher. Because Jenny had been the first of his women to be lost, in fighting the good fight against the forces of darkness.

"You honestly think you can stand against me, and my designs? Let me tell you something - I'm not one of your garden-variety demons that you can kick the ass of, little boy. I am something whose true nature you can't even conceive. The First Evil. Beyond sin, beyond death. I am the thing the darkness fears. You'll never see me, the *real* me, but I am everywhere. Every being, every thought, every drop of hate. In this dimension, and every other!"

Xander's face went *very* cold, unfazed by the big speech. "Just for the record? I know *exactly* who and what you are. Now why don't you get lost..." he lifted his head up, appearing to hear something. "...on account of I think my hosts are gonna be here again, real soon."

"Last chance, Xander," Jenny/the First insisted. "Otherwise I promise you, you'll never get to go home-"

"Home?" the time-displaced man said softly. Then he said in a voice full of bitterness and loathing, "Home?! What home? I don't *have* a home anymore, you bitch - thanks to you, or whoever it was that meddled with history. And what's more - I never will..."

The First then vanished, as the doors to the torture chamber opened.

**Los Angeles, California. Later that day**

Rachael Weitz massaged her temples. The stress of the last few days was definitely getting to her; and Xander being lost to the evil law firm and her role in it, was just the tip of the iceberg.

The American secret agents had finally arrived, and flooded the city with large numbers of their personnel. And the Israeli woman had been able to tell that all of them were not very happy about what had happened.

Still, they were professionals, and as such they hadn't let their feelings interfere with what had to be done. The Americans had quickly put together a team to try and rescue Xander. They knew it was best to attack early, before the opposition had time to prepare a defense.

Rachael had been crushed when the attempt had failed. Then Esther, the Wizard and Cleburne had arrived. Shortly afterwards, her handlers from the embassy in Washington and back home in Tel Aviv had arrived as well.

To say that they weren't happy was one *hell* of an understatement. The Mossad station chief, for one, was livid furious. Because he had figured it out that this had been planned from the time that Rachael had gone to dinner with Xander in Richmond, Virginia. And he also knew of Weitz's role in planning the Timetripper's great escape...

The station chief had wanted to immediately order his agent back to Israel, where there was a definite possibility she would be arrested and imprisoned for dereliction of duty. He had even started to do so, only to be stopped by a more senior official who had just flown in from Tel Aviv.

That guy had declared that there would be time enough for recriminations later; for now, the key thing was fixing this situation, retrieving the prize. And then he had said something that had almost made Rachael physically sick.

"He's very disappointed in you."

The female spy didn't have to be told who this 'he' was, that was disappointed in her. And she would have given almost anything to have not disappointed him. But for now, that was something to worry about *after* they got Xander back.

In any case, the Israelis had added their efforts to those of the Americans, in trying to find Xander's location. Monsignor Bentallo had also coordinated the cooperation from the Catholic Church front. This, added to the efforts being put into the situation by the U.S. authorities, was somewhat impressive.

FBI agents had started trailing everyone of importance from the LA branch of Wolfram & Hart. The NSA had been listening in to their phone conversations. Rachael would not have been surprised to have learned that several spy satellites had been diverted to assist in the search, either.

However, it had all been fruitless - as no trace had been found of where the former Scooby might be being held. It was as if the earth had opened up, and swallowed him whole.

Rachael looked up, as the child genius known as Irving Hollins entered the room. "Good afternoon, Ms. Weitz. How are you feeling?" he asked politely.

Rachael leaned back. "How do you *think* I feel? After delivering up Alexander to those bloodsuckers on a silver platter, I'm feeling just dandy!"

Hollins sighed. "I will admit that your recent actions have been a cause for concern - however, I would remind you that Mr. Harris did what he did of his own free will. It's not as if you forced the decision upon him."

Rachael shook her head. "Still, I could have done something to stop his plan. Tried harder to talk him out of it. Called you guys sooner. Something!" she exclaimed.

"What-ifs are interesting to discuss, but we have to deal with the world we live in right now. Our main concern is locating Mr. Harris, and retrieving him," Hollins declared.

"Yeah. So, what's the word on that? I'm pretty much out of the loop for the foreseeable future, is my guess," Rachael asked.

"Nothing new to report, at the moment. Although Joshua, Gunny and their friend from Africa left a short while ago - mentioning something about attacking the problem from a different angle."

"Hmmm, hopefully they'll be able to find something out."

"Most probably they will, I have every confidence in their skills. However, I am concerned about what happens once we learn his location. As of yet, we have no counter to the law firm's use of that telepath. I was wondering if you and your countrymen could help with that," Hollins said in a scholarly tone, which was completely incongruous with his 12-year-old body.

"In what way?" Rachael asked, thankful to be helping out in some form.

"I seem to recall reading some information your agency forwarded to us, back in the early Eighties. And I very much want to follow up on that material."

**The dungeons of the Imperial Palace, Pylea. The same time**

Silas strode into the interrogation room, full of confidence as Barshon and a couple of guards followed him. "Cow! Wake up!"

Xander had actually managed to doze off since the last time the guards had checked on him. "What is it, you demon prick?" the captive asked in reply.

The Captain of the Guard quickly stepped forward, and viciously hit Xander in the face. "You will use proper deference and respect, when before the head of the Covenant!"

Silas also stepped forward, and motioned for a demon lady to walk forward. As she did so, she pushed a small cart with several bowls on it. The minion bowed to Silas, and then examined Xander.

Vakma, for that was her name, held out her hands and seemed to be trying to channel the prisoner's aura. All of a sudden, the female stopped and jumped back, a look of fear on her face. "What in the name of Tarkna-?"

Xander looked confused as Silas demanded, "What is it?"

Vakma shook her head. "No one told me, that this one isn't pure cow-"

"WHAT?!" several voices shouted, Xander's among them.

"What exactly are you saying?" Silas demanded.

"There are traces of the Hui-tal - the scavenger of food - within it, my lord."

Harris had no idea what that meant, when Eli asked, "Hui-tal? That, uh, that translates to hyena, right?"

{Oh, shit} Xander instantly thought to himself, old memories surfacing. {I almost forgot how Drogyn mentioned that, back when I was at the Deeper Well. Okay...but is this gonna be a hindrance or a help, here? }

Silas said nothing, but to his warped way of thinking - that explained a lot. After all, in his mind no *normal* cow could ever possibly be this defiant. {This changes things.}

Staring at the accountant, Vakma replied, "I know not the word you use, but in any case this will now be most difficult..."

"Old woman-!" Silas started to scowl.

"But not impossible. Wait - ah, yes, I have what you need..." She reached down, and picked up one of the bowls. Vakma then grabbed what looked to be a handful of dust.

"Breathe deeply, cow," the demon lady said, as she blew the dust into Xander's face.

Xander immediately sneezed violently, and felt incredibly drowsy.

Silas smiled. "Let us begin..."

TBC...


	3. Chapter 27

**Part Twenty-seven**

**Great Russell Street, London, England. January 22, 2001**

Quentin Travers was not having a good day.

The Watcher was busy writing at his desk within the Council HQ, and he was currently overwhelmed with paperwork. Well, it was the price to pay for his obsession with Xander Harris; the Council official had let things slide an awful lot, during the last six months. And now that the pendulum had begun swinging the other way - he had to pay the price for his actions, so to speak.

All of a sudden though, there was a knock at the door. "Enter," the British man grunted.

His assistant Nigel came in, the current replacement for the not-exactly-lamented Phillip. "Mr. Travers?"

"What is it, man?" Travers demanded. "And don't waste my time with flattery."

Nigel gulped, guessing that the old man was in a fouler mood than usual. "Someone wants to see you, sir. At once."

"I'm busy," Quentin retorted. "Have whoever it is come see me, at *my* convenience."

"I think you'll want to visit this person, sir. He has information on Xander Harris-"

No sooner were the words out of Nigel's mouth, than Quentin had leaped up and was striding to the door. And after getting the name from his stunned assistant, the Englishman left Nigel behind in his dust.

{At last} Travers thought to himself, heading for his destination. {At long last, someone knows something new about that damned infuriating child.}

Arriving at the door in question, the senior Watcher then committed a gross breach of protocol by yanking it open and marching straight in, without having anyone announce him. "What is it? What have you learned about Harris?"

His host just stared at him coldly. "I see that you've picked up some of the colonials' bad habits, whilst abroad. You failed to knock," the one and only Roger Wyndham-Pryce said icily.

"My apologies," Travers replied impatiently, ignoring the ruffled feathers. "But my assistant said that you wanted to see me at once, and so I decided to dispense with the pleasantries..."

Wesley's father mentally sighed. He should have known that Travers would act this way; Roger hadn't forgotten the underground rumors that had circulated for a while, about Quentin being willing to let the entire Council facility get bombed into oblivion rather than surrender Harris... "Sit down, man. A sherry?"

Travers shook his head. "The information."

Roger got up anyway, and poured himself a drink. "As you know, I officially retire within the month," he said whilst at the bar. "And I desire finality to my affairs. Harris has been a source of interest to me, what with his connection to my son-"

"Ah yes, dear Wesley. One of my finest disciples. And one of my greatest failures, not to mention," Travers interrupted.

Roger ground his teeth, trying to keep his temper. "His resignation from the Council-"

"To work for that misbegotten vampire?"

"-was due in part to our actions at the time of the Ascension, but also to Xander Harris mentioning in 1999 that Wesley had his own role to play. In Los Angeles," Pryce tried to quell the urge to throttle his compatriot.

Travers lifted his eyebrows, as he hadn't known that. "Indeed?"

"Quite so. And as such - I have had personnel reporting to me, about happens in that city."

Quentin again grew impatient. "And?"

Roger stroked his beard. "According to my informants, Mr. Harris has recently been captured by a hostile enemy power."

The expression on the other man's face was indescribable. Disbelief, anger, determination and a thousand other emotions passed across his features before Travers choked out, "What? But that's, that's...never mind. Who-?"

Roger Wyndham-Pryce sighed, as he sat down behind his desk. "That damnable law firm, Wolfram & Hart I'm afraid..."

**Unknown place, unknown time**

Xander looked around in confusion. { How the hell did I get here? } he thought somewhat worriedly to himself.

The man found himself standing in an empty hall, filled with pews of chairs. Moments before, he had been in the torture room back on Pylea, with the demon priests doing their 'I am the ultimate lord of evil' routine. Then that crazy demon woman had come in, talking about him not being completely human...

Xander put that out of his mind for now, and looked around some more. The place looked familiar to him, even if he couldn't quite place it just yet; and the young man knew he had been here before. Well, the Sunnydale Bison's Lodge *did* tend to imprint itself on the old memory cells...

But when exactly he'd been to this place was the mystery. "Hello?" Xander called out tentatively.

"What do you want?"

Xander looked at the source of the query. The female voice sounded damned familiar to the former Scooby, as he cautiously stepped forward to the source of the voice. As Xander did, the young man noticed that the front of the room was set up for some kind of ceremony-

"I should have known you'd come back to twist the knife! Get more flesh and blood from me. Well, Lord knows that I know all about that! Did it often enough myself..."

Xander looked over into the corner where the voice came from, trying madly to remember who it belonged to. {I know it, I know I do.}

A young woman with bottle-blonde hair was crouched down there, almost sitting on the floor. She was dressed in a white gown - and although Harris couldn't make out her face, due to her staring down at the floor, he could guess she had been doing quite a bit of crying before now.

"Don't worry, miss - I'm not going to hurt you..." Xander said gently.

But that only brought about a volcanic reaction from the woman on the floor.

Her head snapped up, with pure venom and fire in her eyes. "Not going to hurt me? Not going to *hurt* me!? Why not, you got your shots in today quite well! What you did...how can you say you don't want to hurt me?!" She jumped up in a flash, and slapped Xander as hard as she could - as the man just stood there in shock.

For standing in front of him, full of anger and vengeance and clad in her white wedding dress - was Anya Jenkins, the former Anyanka.

"Ahn?" Harris managed to croak out. "How the - you're here? And you're not a demon? You're alive-"

"Alive, yeah, what did you think - I would kill myself, just 'cause you left me on my wedding day? Don't flatter yourself. And get over yourself. I did!" the scorned woman almost spat out.

The thing was, this just didn't make any sense at all to the former Zeppo. There weren't any headaches, so how could this be Anya saying these things to him?

And besides, in this version of history, he had never even *met* Anya Jenkins! For God's sake, she shouldn't even exist; as he had never cheated on Cordelia Chase, and the brunette girl had never inadvertently summoned the female demon and let Giles entrap Anyanka into her mortal identity...

And yet, Xander's eyes and ears were telling him something completely different. Had that other timeline somehow been regenerated?

"I told you it was all lies. Nothing but lies! He was someone I had cursed, who wanted revenge. Whatever he showed you, it was just his pathetic way of getting back at me! But you fell for it, didn't you? Hook, line and sinker. I bet that idiot cheater Stewart Burns didn't expect for his mark to be so completely gullible! He probably didn't even have to do all that much work, to get you to play ball..." Anya continued on with her tirade.

"You're alive!" Xander said with more force.

"We already covered that part!" Anya glared at Xander. She folded her arms and coldly inspected her former betrothed, "What do you want, anyway?"

Xander's head was still thoroughly confused, and so decided to speak from the heart. "I want...I want..."

"Come on, you scared little boy - spit it out. What do you want? To see me thoroughly broken? To see me completely fall apart, just for your entertainment? What else could you want, after leaving me?" Anya was pressing the point with fervor, getting more and more worked up as she spoke.

"Anya - I want you to live, to be safe, and happy. I want you to continue being human, and not become Anyanka again. You're better than that," Xander blurted out. {And what's more, it won't put you at risk from Buffy's urges to kill demons.}

Anya coldly surveyed Xander, and the man found himself almost shrinking back in response. "I *was* living. I was safe, and I was happy. Remember, you were there for most of it? And you then took it all away from me..."

"Ahn-" Harris started out.

"Don't call me that! You don't have the right anymore!" Anya snapped.

"Anya," Xander started again, almost speaking to himself as much as his companion. "I'm sorry for what happened that day. I really am, I know I went about it all wrong-"

"All wrong," Anya interrupted in a mocking tone. "Oh yeah, *that's* an understatement! How would you go about it if you had a second chance, wait until we were actually at the altar? Would *that* have made it better?"

"No, no, no!" Xander protested, trying to convince this woman as well as himself of his good intentions. "Look, I know what I did was a mistake. What I did was horrible, but now I understand...bottom line - it was all for the best. What I saw...damn it, I *knew* things would go badly if we simply went ahead and got married that day! I've had some years to think about it, and I figure we just weren't ready-"

"Gee, think that should have been something you should have told me *before* all our family and friends showed up today? 'Cause that's the kind of thing that you need to tell someone, before they get all dressed up in their wedding gown!" Anya motioned at the white dress she was wearing.

"It's beautiful," Xander said with a trace of nostalgia, not thinking about Faith - for the moment.

"You really think so?" For a brief second, Anya's anger softened. Then just as suddenly, it was back. "Still, doesn't matter - you left me! And at the *worst* possible moment!"

"I'm sorry," Xander said, looking crestfallen as he apologized to Anya. "I'm really sorry. I don't know what else to say-"

"How about telling me *why*? You just said it's all for the best, prove it to me. Tell me why it's for the best!"

"Anya. I already told you - I saw things in the vision, things that scared me," Xander started.

"What things, exactly?" Anya snapped. "Those horrific cartoons you often watch with that insane rabbit scare *me* - but you don't see me running off and cancelling our wedding, do you?! Come on, Xander, you can do better that that!"

Xander looked down in shame. "I turned into something like my father, a drunk and abusive jerk."

Anya looked at Xander with complete scorn. "That's it? You saw yourself saying 'I do', and then instantly changing into your father?"

Xander shook his head. "No, no. I saw the future, every few years. I saw what I turned into, over the decades..."

"Ah, so, the great and mighty Xander Harris saw the future - and it was him following in his louse of a father's footsteps. Big surprise!" Anya announced with sarcasm in her voice. "Come on, if you're talking about deep dark secrets like this - surely you didn't get unhinged over you drinking a little too much, and throwing the occasional punch at me in the coming years?"

"Anya-" Xander started to say - when somewhere at the back of his mind, the old spider-senses began to tingle ominously. {Wait a minute.}

"Come on, if it's going to be something from the future, you ought to make it more exciting, something bigger. Something that will take my breath away!"

"Anya?" Now Xander was talking in a confused tone. This wasn't a question he would have expected from the blonde woman - as Anya Jenkins had always lived in the now, for as long as he'd known her. The future was something she'd constantly planned for, but never desired to know beforehand in great detail...

"Come on, if you're going to be talking about this sorta stuff - tell me something that I can make some money from! That way, you leaving me on this day of all days won't be all bad. I can make a profit over it - and I still get to keep the wedding gifts, right?" Anya asked in a wondering tone.

"Honey?" Xander asked.

To his surprise, she didn't snap at him. The woman in white just looked at him and spoke in a sweet tone, "Did you learn what the major trends in the stock market are, for the next five years?"

Suddenly, it was as if a light bulb had switched on above Xander's head, and a warning bell tolled a deep gong inside his mind. {Why the hell didn't I figure it out sooner? Must have been the drugs that that demon woman gave me.}

He looked around and stated, "Nice try, but this whole thing is simply ridiculous! Not only would Anya not act this way, but right now - she doesn't even know who I am! It's January 2001 - not March 2002. Therefore - despite appearances, you're not Anya."

"Tell me what I want to know! How do I take advantage of the industrial markets? Should I buy gold? Should I franchise the Magic Box?" the simulacrum almost shouted at Xander.

Harris seemed to consider it. "Hmmm, all right, here's something for you. In the future - dog spit is still cleaner than human. That ought to be worth something to someone, somewhere-"

"Xander!" the pretend Anya screamed in apparent fury. "Tell me, and everything will be better. You owe me!"

"You're not Anya," Xander repeated. "I owe the woman in question from that other world, maybe, but not some mind game imitation. So why don't you just get lost, already? You're not getting a thing more outta me."

"Xander!" the fake Anya stamped her right foot down. "Tell me!" she shouted.

"Not a chance in hell," Xander said with a smirk. Then as the scene around him suddenly went black, he whispered with a melancholy tone, "Goodbye, Ahn-"

Because even though Xander Harris knew what was coming in the next few years, he wasn't a miracle worker by any means; and this was most likely his only chance to get closure, on one of his past relationships.

In the torture chamber, Barshon listened to the one-sided conversation Xander was having with himself and the images in his mind. Vakma was holding her palms up against the side of the human's head, and eyes firmly shut - the female demon was starting to sweat from the strain of her exertions.

As the demon lieutenant understood the drugs being used, the cow's mind would create the people and scenes necessary to respond to the general questions asked by the liaison from that other kingdom. {How disgusting for her though, attempting to touch the animal's mind that way.}

However, Barshon grew interested when he heard the name Anyanka. The priest had heard of that particular justice demon, even in this world, and the rumors that something had happened to her over a year ago. And so, he would remember that fact for the future...

After all - the demon owed this cow quite a bit of payback, for the shame the creature's escape attempt had brought upon him.

Xander, subjectively unaware at least that he was actually still in the Pylean dungeon, blinked and then looked around in his mind's eye - only to find himself at Kingman's Bluff.

"Get out of here, Xander."

Harris instantly swiveled about - and saw a black-eyed, black-haired Willow Rosenberg ready to destroy the world. "You have *got* to be kidding me..."

{On second thoughts, probably not} the man thought to himself hurriedly. {Because, I remember this little happy episode! Okay, Harris, you can do this - because heck, it's all happening only in your head! Think Luke Skywalker, and that cave on Dagobah. And remember, padawan, fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to anger. No, wait, hold on; fear leads to hate. Hate leads to the dark side. Damn it, no, that's not right either! I *knew* I should have memorized those lines better.}

"You think I'm playing games? Get out of here before I kick your ass, Xander!" Dark Willow snarled, before a cruel smile appeared on her lips. "Yeah, that's a good line isn't it? 'Kick his ass'. That's what you said to Buffy that day on your way to the mansion, right? When you betrayed me. When you betrayed all of us. And after I found out the truth, that's when I realized...what a pathetic piece of garbage you really are!"

Xander said nothing, and just stared at the faked representation of his former best friend.

"Nothing to say?" Dark Willow gloated, taking in the emotionless visage. "You're not even going to *try* to defend yourself?"

Suddenly, Harris smiled. "Now I remember! Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to the dark side..." Xander shook his head. "That's why - I'm not afraid of you."

The über-witch raised her hands. "Then you're an idiot, on top of everything else!" A beam of green light flashed out, and instantly headed straight for the former Zeppo.

Xander had less than a second to steel himself, as the light blasted him backwards. Just as he remembered, the pain the guy felt when the power hit him was horribly intense. Xander grunted in agony, as his body convulsed from the life force of the Earth slamming into him.

"Willow - you don't want to do this," Harris then stated after recovering somewhat, for some odd reason feeling he should try to talk the Big Bad out of this course of action. Even though he knew it was all taking place in his mind...

Then Xander understood. Because every quest has its focus, and he knew that Willow was inevitably at the core of his. They had been through so much together, in his memories; and the man knew that he had to conquer his inner demons that were wearing her face, if he was ever to find peace in this lifetime.

"Why not? All that suffering? I can feel it, I can hear it. All over the world. I'm going to do something about that!" Willow declared.

"By destroying the world? You have to admit, Wills, that's not exactly high on anyone's list of ways to help people!" Xander replied sardonically.

"Oh, what do you care? You've never been big on saving the world. Only thing you've always been big on, is trying to get Buffy all to yourself! After all, that's why you lied to her that day..."

Xander actually raised an eyebrow at that. This particular dream sequence was really working overtime, trying to lay the guilt on him! "No, sorry to burst your bubble, but I *was* actually big on saving the world that night. I lied to Buffy because I wanted to live, along with six billion other people. I knew that if she thought there was even the slightest chance of getting Angel back, she would have screwed up by not fighting the bad guy all out - and gotten herself killed by Angelus. Then what? Acathla would have opened his big mouth, and the world would have looked a lot like Hell. No, wait, it would have *been* Hell..."

"I did the spell!" Willow declared with firmness. To emphasize the point, she shot out the green light of the Earth's power again, and struck Xander with it square in the chest.

This time, the pain was so bad that Xander dropped to his knees. Willow continued on, haranguing her former friend, "You thought I couldn't do it, didn't you? But still, even just out of a coma, my spell worked flawlessly! I'm much better than you give me credit for!" Black-eyed Willow stepped towards Xander. "But, you didn't trust me. I was your oldest, bestest friend. Yet you didn't believe in me? That hurt, Xander, that really hurt!" Willow again blasted Xander with the magic light.

"Cut that out!" Xander somehow managed to get out through gritted teeth over the pain, as he ended up on his back. "Come on, Willow. You want to talk about hurt, have you looked at my neck recently? I got one heck of a trophy, from when *you* hurt *me* outside the Bronze-" 

"That was nothing less than what you deserved. And what, no snappy comeback from Star Wars or Star Trek? Just begging me to cut it out?"

"No, Will. 'Cause I just now realized...that I don't need to."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

Xander stood up to his full height, trying to disregard the pain. "I survived physical torture for nearly five years in that hell dimension, Willow. The one that *you* helped arrange for me to be sent to, by the way. So the way I see it? If you balance the books, cosmically speaking - I owe you nothing. Not anymore. And you know what they say about sticks and stones? Well, don't mean to brag but that's all you can do here inside my brain, call me names. You can't hurt me-"

"Guess again!" Dark Willow gestured, and three long, bloody scratches appeared down Xander's cheek, the pain just as excruciating as he remembered.

But drawing on his inner reserves of strength, Xander just shook it off - and much to the über-witch's apparent anger, he *smiled*. "Like I said, you can't hurt me. Not like that, not in here. Because I'm not the same person the real Willow did that to, in that other world."

Dark Willow rolled her eyes, the gesture so familiar to Harris it was almost enough to make him think all this really *was* real. "Meaning?"

"Lemme put it like this. The idiot who never even realized his best friend had a huge crush on him, ever since she was 6 years old? The loser who was in love with a girl who could never love him back, because deep down she only has eyes for vampires? The moron who let his girlfriend insult him at every opportunity during junior year, just so he could keep getting some touch? That's not who I am anymore. And I'll never be that Xander Harris again, either; because living five years as a slave will do that to you..."

Then Xander gestured, towards the effigy of Proserpexa. "You want to destroy the world? Then I have only two words for you; useless nerd."

That insult hit home, just as Harris knew it would. The rage and fury on Dark Willow's face was something that Xander had only ever seen once before; on the day that unlamented asshole Warren had been murdered, in the future that would have been.

"Nerd? NERD!? I am so much more than being a nerd, mister! Look around you. I'm ending this world's pain! I've come a long way from being the shy little girl sitting in the back of the class writing Doogie Howser fanfic, and mooning over you!" Willow fiercely declared.

"And yet somehow, I don't see this as a step up for you," Xander quipped back.

Willow frowned. "Maybe it is, Xander. Just think of all the heartache and pain in the future that I'll stop. Tell me you wouldn't mind avoiding what's coming!"

Xander shook his head. As much as he had hated the nine months before Sunnydale had finally been swallowed into the ground, he knew he preferred that to the world becoming a great big ball of fire. "What's coming isn't the point."

"Yes it is. You know *everything* that's about to happen, remember? And since you're hiding it, obviously it can't be all roses. As a matter of fact, I bet it's all thorns..."

Willow put her hands on her hips. "Come on, Xander, you know you want to get it all off your chest! Keeping all that pain bottled up inside of you, it's not healthy. Heck - it must have been eating you up, ever since I did that spell in the library! Ever since you became Future Boy, you've always had that horrible feeling in the pit of your stomach, haven't you? Why else would you go hide in Angel's mansion? Then there's that plan of yours to become a hermit up in the Canadian Rockies. That's not something you do for a happy ending!"

Xander shook his head sadly. "Happy endings, Will? They don't exist in real life, at least not for people like me. Besides, just because I'm unhappy with what happened, will happen, whatever - I don't want to blow up the world."

Willow snorted at that. "Oh, so the happy ending didn't drop in your lap? Big deal! You're only guaranteed happy endings if you go and out and grab 'em by the throat! You ready to do that, Xander?"

Harris was silent as Willow continued, "You've got the power, y'know. Inside that head of yours is enough information and knowledge for you to set yourself up as, I dunno, a king or whatever. Think about it, anything or anyone you want could be yours..."

"Power," Xander said simply. Remembering Buffy's 2003 lectures about 'who's got the power'.

The fake Willow smiled ferally. "Yeah. Power. You can have it, you can wield it for your own purposes-"

"Funny thing though, power corrupts," Xander intoned solemnly.

"What?" Willow demanded.

"There's an old saying, Will - that power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Look at you; all this new power, black-eyed girl and all, and you're standing here planning to destroy the world. The Willow I knew and loved would never do that," Xander replied.

"Then you don't know me. Probably never did, deep down. After all, did you ever think I would leave you there on the street like that?" Willow asked, her point striking home as she did.

"What you did that night was - painful," Xander said in a monotone.

"Like you have any right to complain," Willow shot back. "After all, you caused so much of the pain in this world..."

"What's *that* supposed to mean?" Xander demanded angrily, wondering where the fake Ms. Rosenberg was going to go with this attempt to make him give her information about the future.

"Come on - do you really think you haven't caused anyone pain? Were you so completely blind, all this time? Example - look at all the pain you caused Buffy. You bad-mouthed Angel from day one, and never let her have the slightest bit of relief to simply enjoy his company! I mean God, she loved Angel, and we're talking star-crossed storybook romance here - and you almost had her kill her one true love? Imagine the pain and heartbreak that would have caused her! Betcha you musta really been looking forward to that..."

"No, Will. Just for the record, I did what I did only in amazement that it took a potential apocalypse to make Buffy wake up to the situation - that she had to stake Angelus. Besides, Slay-gal learned to get along fine without Angel - I mean, just a few years later she was happily-" Xander caught himself just in time, before he blurted out details of Buffy's romantic future with Spike. {Damn! I'm an idiot, walked right into that one.}

"What, Xander? What's Buffy happily doing in a few years time? She got married? Had a whole brood of little mini-Slayers, running around the living room floor? Come on, Xander, tell me. You know you want to rub it in my face how things turned out so well, from your big lie!" Willow walked slowly towards Xander. "Explain to me how you were right all along. Show me how you were justified in betraying us all. Prove to me that you matter!" Willow now counterattacked her former friend.

Xander felt the anger welling up inside of him. If this was how the real Willow would have reacted, he was sure he had been right in his decision that night so many years ago... "No thanks. Because I don't need to prove myself to you."

"Yes you do," she snarled, as Willow telekinetically blasted him back towards the statue.

Willow started circling Xander, who again ended up on his ass. "I know you, Xander. Your whole life has been built around getting noticed, and proving that you mattered," the black-haired witch smiled maliciously at Harris.

"All throughout high school, you played the class clown. You dressed in such an awful way that you *knew* it would get you attention, even if it was the wrong kind. You craved every little scrap of attention Buffy gave you, sophomore and junior year! You were like a little puppy, following her around everywhere. You wanted so much to prove that you were someone," Dark Willow was clearly enjoying her taunting of Xander.

"Right, but how about you?" Xander shot back, determined not to let this fake creation of the Pylean demons get the best of him.

Because that outcome...simply was not an option.

"Let's face it, Wills, you were practically scared of your own shadow. The quiet little mouse in the corner that never did anything that might cause someone to disapprove of you. In fact - you were damn lucky Buffy came along, or else you might've eventually joined Marcie Ross as Sunnydale High's Invisible Girl! This is just your way of finally breaking out, how all that time of being the good girl finally broke you. You never learned how to let off steam and when you broke, well - you *really* broke."

"Really. You think I'm broken? Just outta interest, what makes ya say that?" the witch sneered in response.

Xander got to his feet, and prepared himself for what he knew was coming. He knew how to prove his point. Thus he said one word, in a deceptively simple tone.

"Tara."

That had the desired effect, as Dark Willow managed to actually get darker. It looked like her eyes had turned into pieces of coal. Her hair flew up like static electricity, and miniature lightning bolts shot out from it.

"HOW DARE YOU!?" Willow screamed, as yet again she zapped Xander with her magic powers.

Pain shot through Xander's prone body, as Willow continued her assault. She almost ran forward to where Xander was, and then she slashed at him across his cheek with her long nails. Xander felt the cuts, and knew they had drawn blood.

"You have no right to even say her name!" Willow shouted at her former friend.

"I have every right to say her name," Xander managed to get out, as he struggled to his knees. "What you did to her, was far worse than anything I ever did-"

"I love her!" Willow declared.

Xander was a little surprised that flames didn't leap up from Willow to consume him, she was looking that mad. "And yet - look how you treated her," Harris shot back as he got up. "You didn't like it that she thought you were using too much magic..."

Xander took a step towards Willow, who stepped back. "So what did you do? You used that mind control mojo on her."

"I just wanted to be with her, and not have to argue with her all the time," Willow now looked a little unsure of herself.

"So you decided to rape her, huh?" Xander asked with an upraised eyebrow.

This brought on another eruption of rage from Willow. "WHAT? No, I love her. I would never do anything like that to her!"

"Yes you would. And you did. To be honest, Wills, it sickens me to think of how you violated her that way. Okay, you never touched her body, but you violated her mind. You played with and reshaped it the way you wanted to, and never mind what she wanted..."

Xander stepped to where Willow was, he could now feel the blood from the cut cheek dripping down his face. {Man, this is one incredibly real dream! These demons ought to rent out their services to people bored with home theater DVDs, betcha they'd make a fortune.} he thought in passing to himself.

"Can you think of anything worse, Willow? Your soul mate, the person who you fell in love with, she just didn't meet your specifications. So you coldly, dispassionately set out to change her into what you wanted. Guess Tara simply wasn't good enough for you..." Xander reached forward and grabbed Willow by the shoulders. He noticed that the dark in her hair was lightening up.

"She *is* good enough," Willow responded, her voice catching a little bit. And Xander instantly noticed that she was referring to Tara in the present sense.

"She was perfect the way she was, Will. Tara was the only woman I ever met who never judged anyone, she never talked down to them or made them feel like they didn't belong. She was...divine. I miss her, as much as I do Dawn and Joyce. Maybe more," Xander said pensively.

"Tara..." Willow started to sob. "I had no right. No right to do what I did. I just - I wasn't thinking. I only wanted things to be normal again. For us to be together..."

"I know," Xander comforted Willow. And on impulse, on long-forgotten but still-present instinct, he reached forward and took Ms. Rosenberg into a hug. "I know you love her. I know you wanted to be with her. I'm sorry for what happened..."

Willow's only response was to cry into Xander's shoulder, as her hair went red and her eyes became green once more. Suddenly Harris looked up into the sky, deciding what to say to the puppetmasters orchestrating this little pseudo-reunion...

In the torture chamber, Barshon and the other demons listened as Xander managed to whisper, "I promise you this much, you bastards. I'll get around to killing you all for this, later on..." before the prisoner's body sagged down from him passing out.

Vakma broke contact and leaned back. "This will take more time than I first thought," she said, her exhaustion evident to all in attendance in the chamber.

"That was interesting."

Barshon turned and looked to see who was the source of that comment standing near the door, staring intently at their prisoner. {Who dares?} he initially started to think angrily.

But then the demon priest calmed down, recognizing the new arrival.

The champion of the realm.

The Groosalugg had finally arrived on the scene.

**Los Angeles, California. January 23, 2001**

Nathan Reed slowly woke up, a few moments after midnight. {Oh, my head. Where the devil am I? The last thing I remember is getting into my limo, and hearing a strange hissing.}

He tried to sit up, but discovered that he was handcuffed to the chair. "Hello?" the lawyer called out to the darkened room. He heard steps coming closer...

"You have some information we want." Although Reed didn't recognize him, Cleburne stepped forward. "Now start talking, where's the kid?"

Reed quickly put the pieces together, as he wasn't stupid. No one who had risen as high within Wolfram & Hart as he had could possibly be that! Reed instantly knew who had kidnapped him, "You can't hold me here like this! It's illegal, for one thing..."

Cleburne raised an eyebrow at that. "Illegal? Interesting that someone like you, would try to hide behind the law..." A laugh was heard behind Cleburne from someone still in the darkness, and Joshua turned to the source. "What do you think? Would any of your people back in Philly complain about the law, when they were caught with their hand in the cookie jar?"

A short squat man, known to many as Gunny, stepped up behind Cleburne. "No sir, they're not that hypocritical. They'd just take their lumps, and move on."

Reed struggled for a second. "Release me right now, or you'll be in a whole world of trouble-"

"What, you and your company will sue us? Oh yeah, I can just imagine the questions that'll be asked in court..." Cleburne walked around the chair. "Well, your Honor, they kidnapped me because I was holding a friend of theirs prisoner. Who are they? Well, they're a super-secret organization of the government that fights terrorists, vampires and demons. Why no, I feel fine your Honor, why do you ask?" Cleburne actually smirked at Reed.

Nathan decided to try a different tack. "Look, you've had your time with Mr. Harris, gotten the information everyone wants from him. We just want to do the same! Surely you can understand that? We can reach an arrangement, surely..."

"Only thing I want from you, is for you to tell me where the hell the kid is - right now," Cleburne declared in a voice full of finality.

Reed now almost snorted in contempt. "What are you going to do, if I say no? Torture me? Let's cut the bullshit. Never mind what the conspiracy nuts say, men like you don't torture people!" At least, Reed hoped that was the case. "You're too afraid of losing your white hats and shining armor-"

"Point," Cleburne said thoughtfully. "But, there are others I know who don't have the same limitations as the rest of us..."

"What are the interrogation limits?" A guttural Afrikaner voice asked, from further back in the darkness. Reed then actually trembled in fear, as a blonde-haired man with a weather-beaten face stepped out into the light.

"Don't kill him, or do any lasting damage. Just find out where the kid is. And do it fast - we don't have time to waste here!" Cleburne replied as turned around and walked away, followed by Gunny.

Cyrus advanced towards Reed in a manner that terrified the Wolfram & Hart lawyer. He was further terrified when a second later, Nathan realized why the floor underneath his chair was covered by a plastic tarp.

After all, the South African didn't possess the reputation of being 'mad, bad and dangerous to know' for nothing...

**Unknown place, unknown time**

Xander's back felt sore. That was the first sensation he felt, as he slowly returned to the land of the awake.

{Well, the pretend awake anyway} Xander thought to himself. He shook his head, and looked around to see where he was. {Buffy's house! } He recognized the location, the nighttime exterior of 1630 Revello Drive was indelibly embedded in the old memory banks. {Okay, let's see what dark and emotionally scarring scenario the evil demons are throwing my way this time.}

"You turned on me."

Xander turned around at hearing the voice on the porch, and sure enough - there was Buffy Summers. "Buffy? So, it's you..."

A hundred images went through Xander's brain in an instant. The first moment he had ever laid eyes on her incredibly beautiful self. The time he had been accepted as one of her best friends. The joy he had felt, whenever he'd brought her back to life...

But those memories were overlaid with other images, ones that were not so nice to remember. Such as the time she'd humiliated him in the Bronze with that sexy dance, just to make Angel jealous. Learning how she was willing to risk the whole world, just to get her lover back. Her leaving him on the street, to be a midnight snack for a bloodsucker.

Buffy was dabbing at her eye with a Kleenex, as Harris returned to the here and now. "Of course it's me, who else would it be? But Xander, listen to me! I *know* that the vineyard's important, after all - why else would the First be guarding it, if it wasn't? We have to go back there. I mean, I know there were problems last time..."

Harris was about to explode in fury, but somehow reined himself in. {Keep it together, asshole. And don't mention anything about any future events! Odds are, whatever I say is being monitored.} Thus, Xander just interrupted Buffy with a bitter laugh. "Problems? Problems? Buffy, Buffy, Buffy. What a talent for euphemisms you seem to have, these days!"

Ms. Summers briefly looked ashamed at Xander's sarcastic retort. "I'm not saying there weren't problems before-"

Xander snorted at that, but the Slayer continued on, "But we were onto something there. Come on, Xander, you know I'm right! We've been doing this for seven years - and in all that time, the Big Bad always, *always* goes to where the power is! Why aren't Caleb and the others at the school, where the Hellmouth is?"

Xander stiffened at the mention of Caleb. However, he remained silent. {Don't go there right now.}

Buffy wiped her eyes again, then leaned forward and grasped Xander's arms. "They're not there. The school is deserted, we could walk right in and they wouldn't do a thing to stop us. They don't care about that place. Not at all."

"Buffy?" Xander was unsure what to say. He looked through the front window, but the house appeared deserted; fleetingly, Harris wondered where everyone else was. Maybe the dreams brought on by his captors only had one person, in each dream?

"The Shadow Valley vineyard, that's Evil Central right now. All the Bringers are going there. Caleb's there, and the First shows his/her/its face there. That's where the power is, Xander, that's the key to First's plans! Can't you see that?"

Xander was getting annoyed now; he remembered how this mess had played out, in that future that would have been. And he *really* wasn't in the mood for a replay of the whole painful experience...

A horrible thought then popped into his head, as Xander quickly raised a hand and checked to make sure that his left eye was still present. The man felt relieved that it was, {Thank you God, for the little things!}

Buffy, not noticing Xander's discomfort, continued on. "But you know that, you must know from your future knowledge. You know how everything will turn out, right? You've got the whole crystal ball thing going. So you can tell everyone that I'm right!" She turned for the front door, "I can go get them-"

"No," Xander said plainly yet forcefully.

Buffy looked at Xander. "No? No?! How can you say no? You know what's at stake. You, more than anyone else here, knows what'll happen if we fail! You can tell us what you know, it'll help us..." She stepped back and cocked her head, as the fake Chosen One looked at her former friend. "You can't be wanting our side to lose, can you?"

"For God's sake, you're not real!" Xander snapped. "I know that you're not Buffy, so can the act already. And hell, the Buffy I knew at this point in time - she wouldn't be asking my advice about what to do next, anyway!"

"Xander, you can't abandon me!" the false Slayer had tears in her eyes. "I'm telling you, the worst hurt I ever experienced was when you wouldn't follow me back to the vineyard that night. You said my point was to the left of you, and that you couldn't see it. It just tore me up inside when you said that-"

Xander frowned. "Well, I had some pain of my own going on. Remember my left eye? That was a casualty of one of your decisions..." Harris lost his temper for a second, forgetting he was probably being monitored.

"Xander, if I could have stopped that, you know I would have. If I could take the pain from you, I would! I'm sorry-" Buffy softly replied.

"Blah, blah, blah," Xander replied emotionlessly. "You know, having had quite a bit of time to think about it all and a lot more experience in these matters than the first time around, I've come to the conclusion...that the real Buffy's leadership and strategic skills leave quite a lot to desired. No, let's be honest - they suck."

Buffy stepped back, physically reacting in shock to what had just been said, furiously blinking her eyes. "How can you say that? We've gotten through all the Big Bads, and all the evil things the Hellmouth has thrown at us. For seven years! I'm the Slayer, and I didn't steer us wrong..."

Xander realized then that for as long as he could remember, until the day represented in his mind - no one had really questioned Buffy's leadership skills. The closest had been Giles arguing with her over what to do if Dawn got cut by Glory, but nobody had ever *really* called her out about any of her prior decisions...

Then Harris knew what to say. "Sophomore year, and the Master. You knocked out Giles, and went down into those goddamn caves - for that particular vamp to kill you. Like a lamb to the slaughter. You calling *that* one of your brilliant decisions, that didn't steer us wrong?"

Buffy Summers backed up again. "Xander-"

"I saved your life then, as I recall - gave you CPR, and brought you back from the dead. Hmmm, ever wondered what the world would be like today if I hadn't?"

"WHAT?" the Slayer squawked.

"Well, let's see. Okay, assuming I'd taken Deadboy to stake the Master on the school's roof, and we were successful that night - Angelus would be nothing but a dusty old entry in the Watcher diaries. Theresa Klusmeyer, Miss Calendar and God knows how many others would still be alive. Faith would never have-"

Xander cut himself off, mentally cursing. "Look, Buffy, the point is you've made mistakes before. Many times. Everyone does - it's part of growing up, and being human. But you learn from your mistakes. Or at least, you're *supposed* to!"

"Xander-"

"The problem is, I think, you never have. Because you always think with your heart, instead of your head. And while that's occasionally been a strength, it's also been your one huge weakness throughout the years. What made you a train wreck, just waiting to happen. Bottom line; you did what you wanted to get what you wanted, and to hell with everyone else - because they're not the Slayer, and can't possibly understand what you go through."

Buffy frowned at that. "That's not true!"

"Isn't it? Okay, Buff - name for me one thing that's changed, over time. One thing that you actually listened to someone else about, who disagreed with you about what to do..."

"How about Spike!? I was ready to give up and die after you all threw me out of my own house, but he persuaded me..." the false image of Buffy stopped, when she saw the rage on Xander's face. "What?"

"Spike and Drusilla sent me to that hell world back in 1998, and you're using *him* as a character reference? Next thing you know, you'll be saying Hitler wasn't such a bad guy after all! Jesus, Buffy - what *is* it with you and vampires? I've never understood it. And most likely, I never will..."

Buffy suddenly seemed to get mad. "I should have known that your stupid teenage jealousy would finally show its ugly face! Tell me something - when Angel left town after Graduation, how much of it was his idea; and how much of it was *you* telling my soul mate to hit the road?"

Xander shook his head. "This is pointless, I'm not playing that game with you. You'll get nothing out of me about *his* future; Deadboy's too important, or so I've heard..."

The pretend Buffy opened her mouth to continue, but Xander beat her to the punch. "The same goes for everyone else, even the real Buffy. On account of if it comes down to choosing between her and you? Complete no-brainer..." He glanced upwards, "Look, if you demon asswipes can hear me? It's over. I'm not saying a single more word to this particular construct that you've cooked up inside my head. So flip the channel, or whatever; we're done here!"

There were a few moments of tense silence; and then, blackness.

In the torture room, Vakma was gasping from her efforts to maintain her mental manipulations upon the one and only Xander Harris. The Groosalugg noted this and said in wonderment, "I have never before seen any cow exhibit such behavior..."

Then he abruptly remembered his place, and Groo bowed before Barshon. "My lord. The head of the Covenant has dispatched me here, to assist you in any way that I can. What are my orders?"

Barshon didn't have time for this. "Stand guard outside. Let no one enter, save Lord Silas himself!"

Groo nodded and bowed again, before leaving the dungeon. Eli watched and said in confusion, "Uh, how come that guy isn't a slave or whatever?"

The demon priest shot him an annoyed glance. "The Groosalugg is the champion of the realm, the bravest and sole undefeated warrior of Pylea. Despite the fact that he has cow blood due to his impure ancestry, do not underestimate his power. He could dismember you in an instant!"

Eli nodded and just tried to make himself invisible, as Barshon turned to face Vakma. "Why have you stopped? Continue the interrogation!"

The demon woman tried to catch her breath. "The cow's mind...is...strong," she managed to say. "Never before...have I encountered one...like it. Such hate...such..."

The deputy head of the Covenant just said impatiently, "Come, one final effort! The cursed animal must be weakening by now. Surely you can overcome its pathetic attempts to fight back! Or was the Covenant's faith in you...misplaced?"

Vakma read the unspoken threat five-by-five, and closing her eyes - once again placed her palms close to Xander's head.

Less than an instant later, Xander could see again.

He instantly recognized this place; in another world, he'd had bad dreams about it for months. Not to mention what he had caused to happen to his companion, standing right there with him...

Cordelia Chase wandered around the chamber, glancing at the empty bed in the basement of the old factory - that had once been the vamp lair of Spike and Dru. "So this is where it all began, huh?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" Xander asked, still not used to the sight of his ex-girlfriend; even though he knew she was just a fake, another mental image conjured up by the demons. Exactly like Anya, Willow and Buffy had been. {But I swear, of all the people I was wondering if I'd meet on this little magical mystery tour - *she* wasn't one of them.}

"Oh, come on!" There was a hint of the old Queen C imperiousness on her face, as Cordy gestured. "Do I really have to spell it all out for you?"

As she saw the look on the man's face, the former cheerleader released a theatrical sigh. "Fine...okay, in little itty bitty words? This is where you initially screwed up, and sent me and Anya off to our eventual deaths-"

"Funny thing, but that's not what actually happened. Not that I recall, anyway," Xander replied bitingly.

Cordelia just waved that off. "Yeah, yeah. Virgin territory, and all those things that Oz said in the Deeper Well. But hey, despite all that we both know better - right, Dweeb-O?"

The temporal-displaced refugee scowled. "If you're trying to make a point here, Cordelia, kindly get to it. I don't have all day-"

The brunette woman arched up an eyebrow. "Really? Then why do I think, we've got all the time in the world? After all, those demons...no, let's not get into *that* right now. My point is, in your memories of the original history - this is where Oz and I caught you and Willow, cheating on us. And *that* started a chain reaction of events which resulted in you and me becoming nothing but a memory, and Anya getting her heart torn out - in more ways than one, during 2003..."

Xander ground his teeth, trying to keep his temper. "Still not seeing how all this is gonna make me spill information to you, about the future."

"Come on, Xander, think about it! You and Willow were making with the smoochies, all that time since Homecoming. And yet the moment you two guys were found out, it was all over? Like someone had flipped off a switch, and you no longer felt...whatever it was you had been feeling? You don't find that just a little too...convenient?"

Now Harris frowned, as this was the closest his subconscious had ever come to suspecting Jasmine's existence. "What are you trying to say?"

The pretend Ms. Chase rolled her eyes. "God, were you always this stupid? Use that so-called brain of yours, dummy! If we'd still been together after my parents lost everything thanks to the IRS, there's a *chance* I'd have stayed in that one-Starbucks town - and not gotten myself dead in LA, five years later! Something big and bad must've wanted me there, for its plans to happen. May as well face it - by not trying harder to win me back after the Mayor got his ass blown up, you played right into the Big Bad's hands! So just tell me what-"

"Don't bother trying the guilt trip thing. You and me were never meant to be," Xander growled viciously. "I learned that much in my life, the hard way!"

Cordelia groaned, and flipped her hair to one side. "I know that for you, it was all just hormones - but I actually fell in love with you, dorkhead-"

"DON'T SAY THAT!" Xander shouted instantly.

"Why not?" the woman asked in apparent perplexity. "However deep you've suppressed it, however much denial you've gone into over it - you know that it's true. Like it or not, I loved you. After all, I put your picture in my locker - and for a high school cheerleader, can you think of anything greater that indicates the L-word? And in this world, I never stopped loving you..."

"THAT'S A LIE!" Harris again hollered.

Cordy looked confused. "Why do you say that?"

"You have to ask? Take a good look at my goddamn neck!" the man screamed. Forgetting for the moment that this wasn't the real Chase girl, who he felt had cruelly betrayed him.

As this was something he'd needed to vent about, for a very long time.

"For God's sake, I *trusted* you! I understood that after I lied to Buffy that night, if she ever found out - I was risking the end of our friendship. Hell - I pretty much knew if she found out, *exactly* what would happen! Because let's face it, at the time - that was something Slay-gal could never understand, without believing I did it out of jealousy or whatever!"

A pause. "Willow? I knew for sure she'd take Buffy's side afterwards, best friend blindness thing - I'd seen it often enough, ever since Deadboy lost his soul. Oz? Wherever Willow went, he was sure to follow. Giles? I figured that he'd back up his Slayer, despite everything that Angelus had done to him. But I thought you were the *one* person who I could rely on to be in *my* corner..."

Suddenly Xander sneered, "Still - we both know how *that* turned out, right? So don't try to feed me that crap about the real Cordelia still loving me-"

"You've forgotten what Gwen Raiden told you not so long ago, haven't you?"

That stopped Xander's tirade - cold. "What?" He had forgotten that this version of his former honey knew everything he did, since she was a fake imitation. The real Cordy clearly would not have known what Gwen had said to him, back in Siberian Central.

The false image of Cordelia smirked. "You heard me, Zeppo Boy. Think about what she said that day..."

Harris then abruptly recalled that particular conversation as his companion continued, "Oh, you remember now? Good! So get off your high horse, Mr. White Knight - you *know* that I still have feelings for you, even after all these years. And that I'd have most likely done something about them, if you hadn't run away from LA like a coward back in 1999..."

"Huh?" Xander gaped at the accusation. {Great, Cordelia logic, I remember now why I wanted to kill myself after talking to her for more than five minutes, in the old days.}

"Oh puh-lease, Xander! You and Angel were doing the whole Dynamic Duo thing in Los Angeles, the summer before I showed up - and you eventually headed for San Francisco. Slaying vamps and demons. And you took off, because you didn't want me knowing that you were still alive? You were worried that I'd tell the Scooby gang, and we'd find you with one of Willow's locator spells? Yeah, right! That may have been part of the reason you disappeared, but sure as hell not all of it..."

Harris was getting angry again. "Then enlighten me, please."

Cordelia smiled mysteriously. "I know you, Xander Harris. Better than anyone, apart from maybe Willow - given how we all grew up together! The fact is, you're simply not the type of guy who thinks that a woman is permanently damned - just because of one teenage stupidity..."

Xander started to interrupt, but she kept right on going. "And also, the real me has changed - heck, you remember how Willow told you in that other world, Cordelia Chase wasn't the tactless bitch she was back in high school anymore?"

"So?"

"So I'm thinking, you honestly didn't want to put yourself in a position where despite all your preconceived intentions - you'd have ended up forgiving me or the others, for what was done that night. You were afraid that you might let us back into your life, and eventually even your heart..."

Xander couldn't help it; he burst out laughing. "My God, Cor, I know it's not really you - but did you always act this conceited? With such a high opinion of yourself?"

The female just smiled, though. "You never could beat me in our insult contests, Nighthawk - so don't bother trying to start now..."

Harris was momentarily stung by the nickname, as Cordy kept going, "And you can deny it all you want, but we both know it's not impossible that I'll reclaim you as my boyfriend one day. After all, Faith and Anya are gone now - and by the way? Replacing *me* with an ex-demon? What *were* you thinking-"

"I'm not discussing Anya with you," Xander interrupted with a feral rasp. "Find a new theme. Better yet, get lost and leave me in peace-"

"Sorry, Chicken Little, but no can do. Now, where was I? Oh yeah, those two are both history as far you're concerned, albeit for different reasons. And Willow's into girls now. Buffy? Oh, let's face it - with her track record? Please. So if not me, then who?"

"How about Rachael?" Xander asked coolly.

The dream Cordy snorted. "Like that bitch could even last five minutes, in our world!"

"Don't call her that," Xander snarled unthinkingly. {Damn it, soldier - get a grip on your emotions!}

"Oooh, I've struck a nerve I see! Obviously, I am still the surgeon of mean," the former princess smirked in that exact same way that had used to both infuriate and excite the male Slayerette, years ago.

Then Cordy came over and draped her arms around Xander's neck, "Call me an optimist, sweetheart, but despite everything - I get me the feeling that one day, we'll meet again. And here's a sample of what's waiting for you, when that happens..."

And without saying anything more, Cordelia kissed Xander full on the mouth.

Despite his raging emotions, Harris actually started to respond before shoving her away. "Don't do that again!"

"Why not? You obviously liked it..." Ms. Chase sashayed her way back to her ex. "Tell you what. Just answer a few questions, and I promise I'll restrain my overwhelming desire to hurl myself at you. What do you say?"

Xander glared at his so-called ex-girlfriend, before calming down a little. {These demons are pretty smart, I gotta give 'em that.} he thought to himself. {They're adapting to all my defenses here. Just like the Borg in Star Trek! They won't give up, no matter what. And it's only a matter of time before they bring Faith out in my psyche, and I let something slip despite myself.}

The strategist Harris had become in that slaver hell dimension knew that he had to end this little mind trip immediately, somehow. Wake himself up, from the drugs the Pylean demons had given him. But how? There had to be a weak link, something for him to focus on and attack...

Suddenly the former Scooby stared at the fake Cordelia, having seen something odd for a moment in her eyes - and then, Xander had an epiphany about what was going on. {It's you, isn't it? That female demon, who said I was still part-hyena in that dungeon. Hiding behind the masks of my girls.}

Still, the 24-year-old hesitated about what to do. Because how can one *know* an intuition, beyond any reasonable doubt? He just had to hope he had guessed right, and wouldn't screw up somehow. {Well, like I said to Giles once, I'm twice the fool it takes to do something like this.}

So Harris straightened up and said confidently, "I'll think about it."

The false Cordy grinned, as she went to put her arms around his neck once again. "I promise you won't regret this-"

"I already do." {And if I've guessed wrong, oh hell - God forgive me.}

Thus when she got close enough, Xander reached out - and exactly like Buffy would have done to the demon called Gnarl in the future, he jabbed his thumbs into Cordelia's eyes.

And just before everything went black, the last thing Harris witnessed was Cordelia Chase screaming.

In the torture room, the demons were *very* surprised when Vakma released her palms from Xander's head and started to yell in agony. "ARGGGGHHHHHH!"

Xander himself instantly woke up, his eyes flying open. {Hot damn! It worked.}

But the female demon was paying no attention to him anymore, her hands pressed against her eyeballs. "Help me! My eyes!"

Barshon instantly came over to the lady in question, and was shocked to see the blood pouring out from behind her hands. "What happened?"

"The cow...it, it..." Vakma broke off, as she suddenly lost control and howled in pain.

"Take her," the second-in-command told two of his acolytes, as the demon lieutenants grabbed hold of Vakma and gently led her off to the local infirmary. Then Barshon returned his attention to the prisoner, "What did you do?"

Xander grinned a death's head-type grin, as he looked at his tormentor. "What do ya think? I beat her, you idiot. It was her turf, her rules - and yet, I *still* kicked her ass! And anyone else you bring to try what she did, I'll do the same thing to them..."

The demon priest instantly backhanded Xander in a rage and then stormed out of the dungeon, to report to and confer with Silas. Just as Eli was about to follow, Xander called out, "Hey, you! Hold up a moment."

The accountant hesitated, and turned around. Careful not to get too close, Eli asked, "What is it?"

Xander stared at him. "First off, what's your name?"

The demon shrugged, not seeing the harm in answering. "Eli."

But Harris just grinned horribly at him. "Good, I like knowing the names of the demons that I'm gonna kill one day! But getting back on-topic, I want you to relay a message to your bosses back in LA for me. What I did to that demon bitch, just now? One day I'm gonna do the same thing, or something similar at least, to each and every one of your firm's big shots! Especially that dead woman, Lilah Morgan..."

The accountant just scurried out of the room. {No sense taking any chances. I have *got* to request for somebody else to take over for me here, the moment I relay that message.}

**Los Angeles, California. Later that night**

Cleburne took a sip from his cup of coffee, as Cyrus walked into the lounge where the secret agent had been waiting. Cleburne made a point of not noticing what Cyrus was using a towel to wipe from his hands.

The Marine colonel just looked up expectantly. "Well?"

The South African replied with only one word.

"Pylea."

TBC...


	4. Chapter 28

**Part Twenty-eight**

**Shadyhill Cemetery, Sunnydale, California. January 24, 2001**

"There you are!"

Dawn turned around on the bench she had been sitting on, at the sound of Buffy's voice. Her sister definitely sounded upset as she continued, "You shouldn't be up and about, Dawn, the hospital only released you a few days ago. You should be home in bed - and don't even get me started on being out in Sunnydale after dark!" Buffy scolded her sibling.

The Slayer had been almost frantic when she'd discovered the Key had left 1630 Revello Drive, while their mother was sleeping. Putting aside the whole issue of the Knights of Byzantium - who, upon discovering what kind of formidable foe they faced, had temporarily vanished into the woodwork - this was still the mouth of Hell, where people got killed every night.

{Dawn's in trouble - must be Tuesday} Buffy had hurriedly thought to herself, just before the midnight hour had passed in fact.

Dawn just nodded at Big Sis's rant, she'd known that leaving the house was childish and irresponsible - but it was something the young girl had felt she had to do. "Sorry, Buffy. But I just had to get out of the house. Don't worry though, I brought protection!" Dawn showed the blonde Chosen One the cross she had been carrying.

The night air of the cemetery chilled both of them, as Buffy contemplated the holy icon. "Okay - but still, Dawn, you should know better. One swipe of the arm, and, like, a vamp has you at his mercy!" the older sister continued her chastisement.

She then noticed that her little sister was looking distant again, staring at one of the tombstones. Buffy didn't need to look to know which one it was; she had been here often enough to know who the stone belonged to.

Joyce's oldest daughter supposed this shouldn't have surprised her, either. {She still misses Xander über-bad...well, we all do.}

"You miss him?"

And there was no need to say who that 'him' was either, that the question referred to. Ever since Dawn had told her about the dream, Buffy had expected the teen to show up here. She just wished it had been during the daytime, damn it...

"I do. Buffy, I swear to you - it seemed so real. Like I was really talking to him," Dawn said with a wistful tone.

Buffy put her left arm over Dawn's shoulder, and sat down next to her. "I know. I'm sorry."

This surprised Dawn somewhat, although in the past few months Buffy had gotten better at admitting mistakes. "For what?"

"I'm sorry that it wasn't real. I really wish that you could have been there with him," Buffy replied. "Xander was always good with you..." {Well, I remember him being good with you anyway; which is close enough!} Buffy was still getting used to the whole 'Dawn was a great big ball of magic energy in the past' thing.

"He was good with everyone, even when they didn't deserve it," Dawn said simply.

Buffy sighed. "Yeah. That's another reason why I wish it had been real, so that I could find a way to make things up to him. I know that Willow feels the same way-"

"I'm glad Mom had this bench put here," Dawn said, changing the subject. "It was a nice touch."

Buffy nodded. "She knows we come here quite often, so does she. She probably didn't want to stand the whole time she was here-" Buffy noticed Dawn frowning. "Not that she wouldn't want us to use it also," she hurriedly added.

But Dawn shook her head. "The inscription," she muttered.

Buffy looked at Xander's marker stone. "The soul of a hero. Yeah, so?"

The younger sister shook her head again. "Buffy, why would I dream up a scenario that he wouldn't like that?"

The Slayer looked puzzled. "Huh?"

Dawn started to explain, "It's just - from what Xander said...it sounded like he didn't think of himself as a hero. He said something like, uh, 'heroes die on the battlefield in a blaze of glory. It's the survivors that walk away alive afterwards. And I know what category I've always belonged in'. Well, okay, I'm paraphrasing here - still, that was the general gistiness of it all. But he *was* a hero, Buffy. So why would I dream otherwise?"

Buffy didn't know what to say. "I don't know, Dawn. I honestly don't." But then she thought, {Come on, look at her face - Dawnie's about to cry! Say something positive! Anything! }

In this world, she had never known Maggie Walsh; but still, Buffy Summers had learned *something* from her freshman psychology classes last year. "Um, Dawnie...have you considered that this is - maybe a good sign?"

With the look of horror on her sister's face, the Chosen One hastened to say, "No, no, I didn't mean it like that! What I'm trying to say is...look, you're old enough now to know that Xander wasn't perfect, he wasn't the Xander-god that you had on a pedestal when you were 11 years old! He was a human being, just like the rest of us. He was - an ordinary guy, at least before the whole hell dimension thing. And maybe...just maybe...the dream was your subconscious trying to tell you that?"

Dawn thought over her sister's words, a frown on her teenage face. {Guess Buffy could be right, at that. After all, Xander *did* also tell me that I'd get over him and meet someone my own age - and that's definitely nothing my conscious mind would ever cook up!} "Yeah...maybe."

Buffy smiled, brushing back Dawn's hair from her face. "You're growing up," she said softly. "There was a time not so long ago, you'd have tried to tear my hair out for even mentioning something like that..."

Dawn grinned. "Who says I still wouldn't? If I were you - I'd lock the door after we get back home, Buffy, if you don't want to risk waking up bald in the morning..."

Buffy smiled at Dawn. "Chain on my door, don't you mean? You can pick locks."

Dawn shook her head. "Yeah, I remember the first time I was able to pick the lock on your diary. And can I just say, after I read what you wrote about Angel? Ewwwwww!" Dawn responded as she made a face.

Buffy made a face of mock outrage. "You're one to talk! I remember when I first snooped through yours...I think Xander would have turned the color of a tomato, if I'd ever told him what I found out-"

"Buffy!" Dawn squealed. "You wouldn't have!" She slapped her sister on her upper arm.

The Slayer stood up, and made a stage production out of rubbing her arm. "Come on, let's get you home."

Dawn stood up, and the two of them started walking out of the cemetery. As they walked, Buffy was struck by a thought that had been floating around in her mind ever since the Christmas night dinner that had developed into a Xander cry-fest. "Tell you what, Dawn, when everything settles down - we'll take a trip to Los Angeles, to visit Angel. The final part of senior year, Xander spent more time with him than anyone else. We can talk to my ex about him..."

**Los Angeles, California. Later that morning**

"Okay, so let's cut to the chase. How the hell do we get to this Pylon place?" Cleburne asked in exasperation.

"It's Pylea. And from what Reed told me, those lawyers opened up an interdimensional portal to get there. But he was more than a little vague on the details as to how," Cyrus responded in that distinctive guttural voice.

Most of those present frowned. And it was clear to Oz at least that the presence of the new arrival was, at best, being only grudgingly tolerated by most of the Siberians - Esther in particular. {Wonder why they dislike him so much?}

It had been three days, since Xander had been lost to the clutches of Wolfram & Hart. And for the past 72 hours, the Siberians had been stymied by not having any information on Xander's whereabouts. They had the men and weaponry to rescue him; they just didn't know where to deploy them. Now, thanks to the information acquired from Nathan Reed, they at least had a general idea of where he was.

Of course, *getting* there was a whole different story.

"I don't suppose he could be holding something back?" the Wizard asked the African mercenary, musingly wondering about Nathan's ability to conceal secrets under duress.

The look Cyrus sent the way of the child genius, immediately prompted the boy to continue, "Apparently not, I see. So, is there anyone else from the firm who we might be able to inquire of?"

Cleburne shook his head. "Not really. Those individuals we know that have the talent to do something like that, they're sure to be well guarded - and if we snatch them, there's a good chance that the kid will get moved to another locale long before we can mount a rescue operation. Besides, I'd prefer having our transport handled by someone we can trust not to be looking to screw us over, when we go through the portal."

"And we are still newcomers at this. Our resources and knowledge leaves something to be desired," Esther observed.

Hollins looked at the representative of the Catholic Church. "Might you be able to help us find someone who could assist in getting to this Pylea dimension?" he asked.

Monsignor Bentallo thought for a second. "Perhaps. I must admit to being completely unfamiliar with the locale in question; however, I've already started making the necessary enquiries to see if I can find someone to facilitate our transit there. I'll continue to do so, and if anything is learned on how to get the place - you'll be the first to know."

"We should try the Furies," Gunny suddenly spoke up. Within the group, only Oz was tighter-lipped than the Marine sergeant-major, so his pronouncement attracted the attention of the whole group.

"Yes," Hollins agreed. "That would be a logical place to start, as they willingly assisted us when we dealt with those slaver demons and their home dimension. However, the question is *will* they help?"

"They'll help. I'll see to that!" Rachael said with determination.

"Professional detachment?" Cleburne chided the Israeli secret agent.

"Shut up, Cleburne!" she snapped back. "The same can be said for you. We all want Harris back safe and sound, more than you'd tolerate in any other operation!"

Cleburne just blinked in response to Rachael's outburst. {Touchy}

"And there is every reason to believe that the three women would be most cooperative, if they knew Mr. Harris' safety is at stake," Bentallo commented.

"Yes, in light of what you relayed to us, under the circumstances - they'd clearly want the man to return intact," Esther commented.

"You gotta admit, anyway, possibly being pregnant with the kid's kids definitely shows that all three of 'em have warm and fuzzy feelings about him!" Cleburne observed. Then he thought wryly, {Harris, of all the crazy shit that's happened ever since I met you - that particular episode has *gotta* take the cake!}

Gunny hid a smile at the turn this conversation had taken. As when he had learned of what had happened with the Furies, he had been...impressed. After all, the Marine had met the three women, and he was a male with functioning eyes...

Across the room from him, Hollins was deep in thought. The fact that Xander had planned ahead in that way had impressed the strategist within the child genius. Of course, Irving still strongly disapproved of Xander walking into the law firm's trap like that; he just didn't express his displeasure in the same way that Cleburne did.

In any case, the Furies had known what was at stake. So if something went drastically wrong they'd wanted Xander Harris, the next generation - and they'd gotten it.

Cyrus pondered all that he had learned over the past few days. He knew that the Americans had bitten into something bigger than they had ever encountered before, yes; but this, this was almost beyond belief. {If Father was alive and I told him this story, he would beat me for not holding my liquor well enough!}

He turned to Cleburne. "Colonel, I must admit - you have far exceeded my expectations of just how much trouble you Yanks have gotten yourselves into!" the South African commented.

"Shut up," Esther snapped at him.

"Not now!" Cleburne held his hand up to stop the inevitable argument between the two. "We'll argue later over how screwed up this whole thing is. For now, we just get the kid back..."

The USMC officer then turned to Oz and the others. "So the Furies are rooting for his return, but fearing the worst? Then I'm thinking they'll help out, if we ask them nicely. Heck, they seemed really upset about the kid when we last visited them! Well - as far as I could tell..."

That earlier visit to the Furies had indeed been unique in Cleburne's experience. Actually, when the girls had imparted the information that they may be carrying Xander's children - the secret agent had thought he was going to have a coronary, right on the spot.

Once he had picked himself up and learned of the whole deal with the Soul Stones, Joshua had instantly realized that the Furies could very well become a target for Wolfram & Hart, and sooner rather than later. It had taken quite a bit of doing, but he had *finally* convinced them to leave their penthouse for their own safety.

The sisters were currently under guard at the USMC base located at Camp Pendleton. Quite a number of Cleburne's beliefs had been shaken in the past few days, but not his confidence in the ability of an entire division of Marines to fight off any threat to someone that they were protecting.

Oz spoke again. "What do we know about Pylea?"

Cyrus answered that one, "Not much. But it sounds like a place where the demons run the show, and the humans are no better than slaves."

"Must make you homesick," Esther muttered under her breath. Thankfully, Cyrus didn't hear her - or if he did, he chose to ignore her comment.

"Do we have geographical intel on Mr. Harris' location?" Hollins asked. As he knew that by this time, Cleburne had completely given up on trying to make sure everyone referred to Xander by his alias.

"Not really. We know they put him in the care of some demon priests, or something like that. And from what Reed said, these guys run everything. We think they'll be holding him at their headquarters, or temple, or whatever."

"You think? You think, and that's what you're basing your rescue plans on?" Hollins asked. He knew enough military theory to recognize the danger in that statement.

"I know, it's not much! But right now, it's all we have to go on," Cleburne replied. "I suspect that even Wolfram & Hart don't know the exact location of where the kid's being held, for security reasons. Which, you have to admit, is smart of them."

Esther frowned at that. "Then how do they keep track of what's going on?"

"Reed said they had a demon there as liaison. He's supposed to report in when something comes up," Gunny said. "Makes sense, as the demon priests appear to have a real problem treating humans with any degree of respect or tolerance."

"We really need to get to this place, fast," Cleburne remarked. "And I know I'm sounding like a broken record, but we also have to do something about the mind games they played on our boys, a few days back! We need to be sure we actually save the kid, and not have a dream put in our heads."

Cleburne, when not complaining about what had happened, had been obsessing on figuring out how to stop the law firm from playing the same trick again that they had earlier. Joshua turned to Esther, "Should we contact the Project Stargate people? I know they're more into remote viewing, but maybe they might have some ideas-"

"Actually, I have a suggestion," Hollins interrupted. "Ms. Weitz's organization refreshed my memory on something from the Eighties, that might just apply to our situation."

**The private office of Lilah Morgan, Wolfram & Hart building, Los Angeles. Later that afternoon**

"Where the hell's Nathan Reed?"

Lilah looked up in irritation at the interruption. Eli, the demon they had sent to Pylea to monitor the interrogation of Xander Harris, had barged in - and was standing at the doorway, looking annoyed.

"That almost certainly doesn't concern you," she replied acidly. Lilah hadn't encountered the new head of Special Projects during the last couple of days - and to be honest, she really was glad of that fact. "If you can't find him, he's probably too busy to see you. After all, you're only the liaison to Pylea from the accounts department! Don't let your current assignment in that demon dimension go to your head-"

"Oh, a sense of humor. You and that crazy kid no doubt get along great!" Eli said sarcastically.

Lilah's suspicion instinct went into overdrive. "What's up with Mr. Harris?"

"Well, wouldn't you like to know?" Eli smirked back. "Because just for the record, *Ms. Morgan*, I report to Mr. Reed - not one of Holland Manners' old flunkies. If you haven't noticed, there's a new order here at this branch of the firm!"

Eli knew that the office politics of Wolfram & Hart were cutthroat, literally. In such an environment, information was quite often the only difference between life and death.

He also knew that whatever information the prisoner gave up in Pylea, was priceless beyond any cash value. And the accountant was not going to give that power to Lilah, not when at the very least he had visions of a corner office bouncing around in his head...

Lilah, on the other hand, had similar thoughts going through her mind. If she was the bearer of whatever information there was, well - her stock around here would go up dramatically. And unlike Eli, she was actually pretty good at the internal politics of Wolfram & Hart; after all, she *did* have a corner office.

"A new order?" Lilah commented. "Yes, but we've both heard *that* one before, haven't we?" She grinned at Eli. "'Course, in any new order, there are always bean counters. Plenty of bean counters, and all of them easily replaceable."

"And yet, none of 'em have the information I do. Makes me kinda irreplaceable, at least for the moment - wouldn't you say?" Eli was not without his own talents, when it came to office politics.

"Oh for crying out loud, will you two just cut it out?" Lindsey MacDonald walked in behind Eli, and entered Lilah's office - slamming the door shut. "Because we don't have time for these kinds of stupid, petty games! On account of the Federal government has gotta be planning on tearing us apart right now!"

Lindsey almost sat down at the table where Xander had pinned his hand earlier, then remembering that - he quickly moved to the couch next to the window. {Damn him}

The male lawyer sat down and faced the others. "There's Trouble with a capital T, as no one knows where Nathan Reed is right now. He went out a few nights back in his limo, and didn't show up for work the next morning. The psychics can't trace him; so the smart money says he's run afoul of someone we've ticked off. Three guesses as to whom that 'someone' might be, and the last two don't count!"

Lindsey had no way of knowing that the reason the psychics couldn't track Reed was that he was in a specially drugged stupor at the moment, so his mind was unable to be detected by them and thus, the current situation.

"Who's in charge, then?" Eli asked, desperately trying to figure out who the new power around here was.

Lilah just frowned, thinking that the security of the Harris project might have been compromised - and that she was in line to cop the flak from that, given how all this had been her baby right from the beginning. {Damn it}

"Well, it looks like for the moment - you're talking to them," Lindsey waved a hand at himself and Lilah.

"You guys?" Eli managed to stammer out.

"That won't be a problem, will it?" Lilah asked sweetly, putting her doubts aside at once.

Eli hesitated, as he was quickly calculating scenarios in his head. Reed had been a hard-nosed SOB, which to be honest had worried the accountant. Flattery and groveling didn't work as quite as well, with that kind of boss. On the other hand, he was less likely to renege on a promised reward...

Still, right now he wasn't here - and even if Nathan did return intact, his position would almost certainly be compromised from getting captured by the enemy. And possibly revealing information to them.

Thus, the only game in town was right in front of him.

"Not at all. I was stopping in for a status report on the interrogation back in Pylea," Eli declared, having come to a decision in his head.

"And? How's it going?" Lindsey asked a bit too nonchalantly.

Eli advanced into the room and sat down on the couch not occupied by Lindsey, ignoring Lilah's glare. "Let me tell you something, that guy? He's something else. Harris is definitely one stubborn bastard..."

"Has he cracked yet?" Lilah asked impatiently.

Eli intentionally avoided directly answering her question. "First off - them priests, they started out with all the old classic standards. Y'know - red-hot pokers, knives, whips, beatings, they tried 'em all. And those guys are *really* gifted at inflicting pain on humans too, or 'cows' as they call you over there! But all of their tricks didn't accomplish squat; the guy didn't crack. In fact, he just laughed at 'em! Those priests were so infuriated, I thought for a second they were going to lose it and kill him..."

"Harris isn't dead, is he?" Lindsey asked at once in concern.

Lilah shifted uncomfortably at the possibility, and Lindsey idly wondered if it was over the fear that Xander might have been killed before giving up the information - or something else.

Eli laughed out loud. "Hell, no! Like I said, that guy is a complete hardass - all the way down the pike. Matter of fact, he got the drop on the head interrogator and would have killed *him*, if not for yours truly..."

"Really," Lindsey raised an eyebrow at that. He had trouble picturing Eli doing anything, that might have the demon putting himself in harm's way.

"Well, yeah! Of course, there were others present as well," After all, Eli had been the one who had called for the guards. "But lemme tell you, even after the beatdown they put on him for that - he *still* didn't crack."

"And?" Lindsey said. He knew that Eli wouldn't have returned just for that.

"Well, they're not complete idiots, they got creative after that little episode. Had some old demon woman come in, and do some sorta hocus-pocus with his head." Eli waved his hands around, "She was able to ask questions through some kinda weird Vulcan mind-meld deal, using the faces of people who had played a big role in his life - and that he had unresolved issues with."

"Interesting, I hope you took good notes of how she operates. We may want to adopt the procedure to use here," Lilah announced.

"I wouldn't recommend it, at least not for someone like *this* particular prisoner."

"Why?" Lilah and Lindsey both asked together. And then sent matching glares to one another, because of that.

Eli shrugged. "I already told you, Harris is one tough hombre! He figured out what was going on, and *really* did a number on that old lady. She wound up with blood leaking out of her eyes, while she was screaming like a banshee! And let me tell you, it wasn't a good banshee either. More like one of those off-key banshees who can't get work, except to wander the countryside making that awful racket."

"So, what's the status of the project right now?" Lilah asked, clearly not handling her impatience well.

"He's still there. Guy was out cold when I left," Eli declared

"And?" Lindsey prompted the demon accountant. Lilah wasn't the only one getting impatient around here.

"The priests there are...well, baffled at the moment, on what to do next. They've never encountered a cow...uh, prisoner like him before," Eli quickly corrected his little slip of the tongue.

"Any idea as to what their next step will be?" Lilah asked with a definite frosty tone in her voice, as she had noticed Eli's slip-up.

"Well, they're talkin' about going back to the basics. The guy has pissed off more than a few of them, and bottom line - the priests *really* want to get medieval on his ass!"

"There's something else, something you're keeping to yourself," Lindsey observed coldly - his courtroom instincts serving him well.

Eli turned and looked at the lawyer. "Well..." he started out hesitantly.

"What is it?" Lilah snapped, as she was still a little mad over the cattle reference.

"There was one thing he said that's - he sent you all a personal message." Eli was worried over how this next bit was going to be received. He now really wished it had been Nathan Reed he was reporting to.

"Go on," Lindsey said shortly.

"Uh, before I get into that - I think someone else should take my place there, so I'm making a formal request for a transfer back to my old job. 'Cause the guy kinda promised he was going to kill me, and I don't like my odds if Harris should ever manage to get loose..."

"Request denied. Danger goes with the job, you should know that you get death threats like that all the time here," Lilah replied.

"Yeah, well, I'd keep that in mind if I were you," Eli said with a look. "Because that dude said that somehow or other, he was going to kill all the big shots of the firm - including you, Ms. Morgan. In fact - Harris named you specifically, as Dead Woman Walking."

Lilah blanched at that, but Lindsey chuckled. "Well, Lilah, it certainly looks like you made an impression..."

The rest of the conversation didn't take long. Both lawyers questioned Eli about what Xander had said under the influence of those drugs, and thanks to the demon's near-photographic memory - it was like they were directly listening to Xander's replies, while he was talking to the fake versions of Anya, Willow, Buffy and Cordelia.

But since there was nothing they could use, apart from maybe the dog spit thing, Eli was quickly booted out of the office and sent on his way back to Pylea.

"This is a complete friggin' mess," Lindsey said succinctly, once he and Lilah were alone. He got up, and started pacing.

"You're telling me. Harris should have coughed up the goods by now, and been nothing but a corpse - like his official status says he is. Instead, he's making Rambo look like an amateur!"

Lindsey scowled. "Whatever. You think we should have Harris moved?"

Lilah gestured. "Why? Reed doesn't know how to get to Pylea, any more than we do. Even if Siberian Trip Wire knows where he is now, the odds that they'll ever find that particular demon dimension are still a million-to-one..." She sighed. "Any progress on that other front?"

MacDonald shrugged. "Yeah. The eggheads finally figured out who Harris enlisted to help, with that Soul Stone thing."

"And?" Lilah was *not* in the mood for games, after what Eli had reported.

"The Transuding Furies," Lindsey said with a sideways glance.

That made Lilah pause. She knew of the sisters, as they were considered a threat to the firm - but not enough of one to be worth actively pursuing and eliminating. Of course, that had all changed now. "Do you know where they are?"

"If you mean their official address, sure. But unfortunately, the birds have flown."

"Where?"

"According to a source, the Marine Corps base at Camp Pendleton. Things is, I'd already sent someone there to try to figure out how to tag them for extraction before I came in here today, but..." he trailed off.

"What?" Lilah asked tiredly, feeling like she was about to get a monster migraine from all the events of the past half-hour.

"Our inside man was caught, it seems that those guys aren't stupid; the brass there obviously know what's what. I mean, they have their soldiers patrolling around with crosses and stakes, as well as machine-guns! Our boy just vanished; haven't heard a word from him. Myself I suspect he was executed, via a firing squad."

Ms. Morgan got up after hearing that piece of news. "But they can't do that! The law clearly states-"

"You're thinking of civilian law, sweetheart - not military law!" Lindsey threw his hands up in disgust. "That's what *really* grates my cheese, you know, about that little message which STW sent us. How it was all perfectly legal..."

**Los Angeles, California. That night**

At a charity ball sponsored by Wolfram & Hart, Gwen Raiden was finally getting to practice the skills she was afraid were starting to get a little rusty.

That night, she was going to be a thief again.

It had all started when Lily Steele had told the Fang Gang how the evil law firm had set up this event for the East Hills Teen Shelter a couple of months back, as part of a public relations exercise to help raise money for the troubled homeless of the city. But Angel had quickly figured out that what Lilah and Lindsey were actually doing was overseeing a scheme hatched months ago, to steal two million dollars from the event for the firm's own nefarious purposes.

So Gwen had instantly volunteered to steal the money, before the bad guys got their hands on it. And as such, a plan had been set in motion for her to do just that.

It almost hadn't happened, though; just yesterday Gwen had had a really painful vision about a two-headed fire-breathing gigantic demon, rising in the sewers beneath the Kenyard School for Girls. One that had really knocked her for a loop, while Angel, Darla, Wes and Gunn had gone off to kill the huge thing. But she had quickly recovered, and insisted that she was okay to do this...

And eventually, her associates had agreed. Thus pulling herself back to the present, Gwen surveyed the scene below her hiding place.

The place was full of celebrities, mingling alongside the rich with a whole 'Wild West' theme to the charity event. Lily had invited all of the Angel Investigations staff, and they were present dressed for the occasion; a disguised Darla was hanging off Angel's arm, Cordy was with Gunn, and Wesley was present with Virginia Bryce...

Ms. Raiden smirked. She had the definite feeling that those two were going to be splitsville after tonight, given the way the wizard's daughter was currently looking at her date. { Pryce? It's time for you to start updating your little black book, my opinion... }

Wes himself was just looking totally awkward and uncomfortable. After all, it wasn't exactly *his* fault that one of Cordelia's two friends - the girls called Emily and Serena, who in another world Cordy would have lost touch with a *long* time ago - was sending out signals tonight, that she was still interested in his ass...

Then it was time. The signal was sent out, and as everyone focused on the prearranged disturbance/distraction - Gwen knocked out the Wolfram & Hart employees guarding the money and quickly took off, no one noticing her absconding with the loot.

Well...almost no one.

The demon named Boone suddenly appeared in front of her. "Little lady, I get me the feeling that what's in there - it don't belong to you."

Gwen shrugged, as she dropped the bags of cash and jewelry. "Yeah, but it doesn't belong to you either." She started stripping off her right glove...

"Well, either way, Wolfram & Hart tells me that you work for a fella named Angel. Thing is I met him back in the 20's, we had an argument in Juarez over a seniorita - one not unlike yourself. So the way I see it, you're my ticket to a rematch of our little altercation back then-"

Gwen sighed. "The way *I* see it, you're a moron."

So saying, she quickly blasted Boone away with a lightning bolt to the chest - one that sent him flying back, and leaving the demon a charred, lifeless heap on the ground. Gwen then put the glove back on, gathered up the most recent fruits of her labor - and grinned to herself. {I have to say, Harris, this assignment you sent me on is many things - but boring sure isn't one of them!}

**The dungeons of the Imperial Palace, Pylea. The same time**

Xander Harris wasn't exactly in any shape to appreciate Gwen's sentiments.

The demon priests of the Covenant of Trombli, as Eli had more than suspected would happen at the time, had gone back to good old-fashioned torture to get information from their captive. Still, it hadn't done them any good, apart from releasing a little frustration maybe.

And oddly enough, they had been somewhat distracted in their endeavors by something...unusual.

The Pylean drugs that had been used to make Xander talk to his women in his mind, had had a strange side-effect. After Vakma had lost that particular battle, Xander had started having hallucinations.

Nothing serious, thankfully - he had just briefly talked to people who weren't actually there - and who were also all dead, to boot.

Oh, granted that the X-man had been doing that a lot lately, what with his encounter regarding the First Evil. But this was different to that; as said, the drug-induced hallucinations had generated visions of people who existed solely in his mind.

Now, normally this wouldn't have bothered Xander much, once he'd realized what was going on. After all - he had been having conversations with dead people, ever since he was 16 years old! This little episode was just another day at the office; and it barely even made a blip on the old weird-o-meter, at this point in his life.

Rather, it was the *people* that had appeared to Harris that was cause for consternation.

Who were, to name just a few, Abraham Lincoln.

William McKinley.

James Garfield.

Alexander Hamilton.

JFK.

Martin Luther King, Jr.

Xander tried not to think about it, but he knew that all these persons had exactly one thing in common; that they had all been *assassinated*. And the fact that in his fantasies they were all welcoming him into the fold, calling him a "genuine American hero" - well, it wasn't the most comforting thing in the world to contemplate, when starting to question one's own sanity.

But then a stinging blow - thanks to Barshon's fist - snapped Xander out of his disturbed private thoughts.

"Cow, I will not say this again-" Barshon growled out.

"So then don't," Xander managed to gasp out.

That was rewarded by another fist to the face from Barshon. "You will give me the information that is required." The demon started to walk around Xander, keeping himself wary at all times. Nearby Groo watched, ready to intervene at any time to defend the deputy head priest.

"You are nothing more than a cow, beneath even the lowest citizenry of the realm. You and your kind only exist to serve us. Anything you know is ours for the taking-"

"And yet here you are, begging me to talk to you. That must suck, huh?" Xander joked. He had managed to get his breath back during Barshon's tirade.

Barshon again responded with physical violence. "Cow, tell me about this stock thing!" The red-robed priest didn't have the slightest clue what the demon from the law firm meant by stocks, he just knew it was important and that made him want to know. Knowledge was power, after all.

Off in the corner, Eli stood and watched. He knew that Xander was secured and shouldn't be a threat, still - he didn't want to risk his life and limb here. So he remained out of arm's reach, and just watched and listened.

"Look, Barshon - oh, mind if I call you that?" Xander started to say.

Barshon of course hit the prisoner for daring to call him by name. Nevertheless, Xander continued, "Thing is, dude, I'm just as lost as you are when it comes to the stock market - the Wizard's college classes didn't cover economics. Well, not yet, but I'm sure he was going to get around to it eventually..."

Xander wondered for a moment what the child genius was up to right now, and if he would ever see him again. Soldier Guy quickly started yammering in his head, {Focus. Concentrate on the here and now. It's the only way to survive this! }

Surprisingly, though, Barshon actually seemed to accept that. "Yes, I can see where a cow might be too stupid to understand something. After all, your brains are small, fragile and slow. Perhaps if we tried something simple..."

Eli looked like he was about to protest for a moment, but a stern look from Barshon instantly dissuaded him from that course of action. The accountant backed off, {You're just an observer here. So play the part! }

Barshon then refocused his attention on Xander. "Surely something even as slow-minded as you, would notice the end of your world. As that would interfere with your eating and sleeping habits! So tell me about the Apocalypse."

Nearby, Eli's eyebrows shot up. {Not a half-bad question, at that. The Senior Partners definitely will want to know his answer to that one.}

Meanwhile, Xander was also noting the question and its importance. {Now *this* is what I expected all along. Maybe there's some brains behind the brawn here. Just not much! } "Well - I didn't notice a lot, every time the end of the world was nigh. After the Purple People Eaters showed up with their Twinkies, I was always kinda busy hiding and eating."

Behind Barshon, Eli snickered. {Guy could get a guest spot on Oprah, if everyone didn't think he was dead!}

Barshon turned in anger. "Silence, you!" he shouted at the demon.

Eli shook his head. "Fine - but he's playing with you, there's no such thing. What he just said - it's a song, and a snack food."

"What?!" Barshon shouted. Xander Harris, no matter what else could be said about him, *did* possess the ability to get under anyone's skin.

"Purple People Eater, it's a song the cattle from his kingdom sing," Eli explained.

Even though he had no idea what that meant - music didn't exist in Pylea, even though dancing did - Barshon turned back around and backhanded Xander with fiercesome power. {How dare you mock me!}

Groo actually cringed in sympathy with what he witnessed. He heard the chains creak, and could clearly see that they were straining at the stress just put on them. Blood splattered in all directions from Xander's mouth, due to the force of the hit.

"My father hit me harder than that, you filthy demon," Xander managed to croak, before passing out from the pain.

**Caritas Karaoke bar, Los Angeles, California. Later that night**

Cleburne and the Navy SEAL nicknamed Red entered the busy nightclub. They looked around, and spotted their prey. With grim determination, they headed there. However, they themselves were spotted and intercepted before they got there.

"Honey, you stopped by?" a green-skinned, and very female demon waitress appeared in front of Red.

"Ametila?" Red said in surprise. He, like most of the Siberians, had a rather unnerving ability to concentrate solely on the task at hand, to the point of forgetting more mundane concerns.

Then Byrne smiled at his girlfriend, "It's great to see you, sweetie! However, we need to talk to your boss for a few minutes."

Ametila pouted adorably. "Okay, but when you're done talking to him, you stop by and talk to me before you leave, you understand?" Red just nodded with another smile, and the working woman pointed towards the main bar.

Red and Cleburne hurried over to him, as Lorne saw them approaching "Oh, sweethearts, been a while since I've seen either of you in here..." Lorne looked around with some concern, "Your friend Alexander Hall, he isn't with you?" he asked.

Because ever since the reading he had done on Xander just before he'd entered Wolfram & Hart's law offices, Lorne had been *praying* that what he'd foreseen...could somehow be averted.

Cleburne ignored his question. "The Furies sent us."

Lorne instantly nodded at that, knowing that whatever was coming next - he would probably have to go along with it, despite any personal feelings to the contrary.

"I need you to tell us about your old home. Place called Pylea..."

**Private airfield near Los Angeles, California. The same time**

Gunny watched the jetliner approach, taxiing to where he was standing. Esther stood next to him, and armed guards could be seen patrolling the perimeter.

"Guess we should be glad the colonel isn't here. He can't be happy with this particular development," Gunny noted as the ground crew opened the door of the jet.

"The only constant in this world is change, Gunny. Today's friends are often yesterday's enemies; those who we fought in the past, can easily become those who fight alongside us now," she observed as several men exited the plane.

Esther stepped forward, all calm and graceful. "Greetings, gentlemen, welcome to the United States."

**The dungeons of the Imperial Palace, Pylea. The next day**

Xander groaned, as he slowly regained consciousness. "Owwww, man! I have *got* to find a better way of getting to sleep..." he complained to himself.

"I do not understand. Why do you persist in needlessly putting yourself through this torment?"

Xander blinked his eyes quickly a few times, and focused on the source of the question. He could make out a human-looking male in Pylean warrior clothes, standing in the corner of the room. He recognized him as the guard who was present for the torture sessions, but had never participated in them.

"I've got my reasons. And just outta curiosity, who are you?" Xander asked.

"I am the Groosalugg, the champion of the realm," was the reply.

"Groosalugg? What kind of name is that?" Xander asked.

"It is not a name; it is a title the Covenant has bestowed upon me. It refers to being the brave and undefeated warrior of the kingdom."

Xander smirked. "Think I'll call you Groo for short. That okay with you?"

"It matters not to me - do as you wish. And I ask you again, why do you subject yourself to this?"

Xander thought for a second. Despite his initial impressions that Groo wasn't exactly a bad guy - he knew he had to be careful about what he said. For Harris knew that this might be just another tactic that his captors had come up with. {Bad cop, worse cop. Oldest trick in the world.}

"Because of the love of a good woman. And the fact that there are some things that your bosses, and those people who hired them, definitely should not know," he finally said.

"Why? Why do you not trust the Covenant to do what it is right?" Groo asked with an air of innocence.

Xander laughed, but not too hard so as to not cause more pain. "Haven't you been paying attention to what they've been doing to me? People who use torture to get what they want, are generally not the most trustworthy types around!"

Groo raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Why do you say this? The Covenant are the leaders of the realm, and have been for generations - millennia. They care for us, and never would do anything to hurt us unless it was called for."

Xander raised an eyebrow at his guard. "Let me guess - they raised you, right?" Groo looked away, and Harris frowned. "What is it?"

All of a sudden, it was like a damn had burst. The Groosalugg cried out, "An animal. A-a beast! To my people, I was nothing more than this..."

Xander was confused. "Why?"

His companion replied in confusion, "Can you not *see* why?"

Harris couldn't shrug, dangling as he was from those shackles. So he just said, "Not exactly. Care to enlighten me?"

The Pylean suddenly seemed suspicious. "Do you truly claim to be ignorant of the flaws of my - polluted birth?"

Xander just shook his head. "Well...huh?"

Groo stepped closer, and looked down at the captive. "My face was different. My limbs bulged out strangely. My heart beat in the wrong place. As I matured these - defects became more apparent. The Covenant soon determined there could be no mistake. There was *cow's* blood in my veins."

"And that was a bad thing?" Xander asked. {So, he's part-demon and part-human...kinda like that guy Doyle?}

Groo nodded his head, finally accepting Xander's ignorance. "I was cast from my village. Cut off from my life-givers. Forced to make my way on my own."

Xander couldn't help it; a flash of sympathy ran through him for the guy. "Funny thing is, I know exactly what you mean..."

But the other man just kept going, finally having the chance to unburden himself on a sympathetic listener. "I sought to end my suffering. I-I *foolishly* entered every contest of skill and daring that I could, in an attempt to snuff out my pathetic life. But even at *this* - I failed."

Xander snorted in amusement. "You did?"

Groo again nodded his head. "I *won* every match. I *vanquished* every flame beast. I *defeated* every Drokken. It seemed nothing could stop me-" 

"And yet, something kinda did. You do understand, don't you, that these priests manipulated you directly into their service? That they only keep you around, because they think they can use you?"

"There is no other way."

"Sure there is. Where I come from, it's the humans - cows, to you - who rule the world. And the demons like your bosses, they have to hide in the darkness - if they don't want a mob of my people to kill them all, like animals."

"You lie!" Groo declared with indignation. {The cow cannot be serious! How can the Covenant possibly allow such blasphemy be spoken, and not have killed this creature? }

Xander lowered his voice a bit and spoke soothingly, knowing that he had to communicate in terms that Groo would understand. "You really think so? Think about it though, what do I stand to gain - from telling you lies?"

He sighed. "Look, I know it's hard when the assumptions of a lifetime get thrown out the window. Trust me, Groo, I've been there. I once had three people who I would have died for, turn on me and leave me for dead. And let me tell you that devastated me. Took me quite a while to get myself righted..."

Groo now looked confused, although he knew from Vakma's interrogation sessions that Xander was referring to those three female cows of his acquaintance. "Righted? Did they knock you to the ground?"

Xander suppressed the urge to laugh. "Well, I did wind up almost dead on the street, but they didn't push me down. They just left me there."

"Was one of them the good woman you mentioned earlier?" Groo asked.

"No, she came later. She's dead now, but see, I had to come here to keep her safe."

The Groosalugg was now even more confused. "If she is already dead, then why do you need to keep her safe?"

Xander grimaced, and proceeded to tell Groo about Faith's soul and the threat from the LA lawyers. "So you see, I couldn't abandon her like that. NO WAY," he said with some force. "I know what it feels like, to have that happen to you. And I was *not* going to put Faith through that crap. I wasn't going to do to her, what was done to me-"

"I will admit, it is not a very pleasant thing that those cows did to you that night. However, under similar circumstances the priests would not have left *me* in such a position," Groo replied. And in his mind, the grudging respect that he felt for the cow grew. {He let this happen to him, purely for another's welfare. Such a thing indicates true honor and bravery. }

"Of course not, because you're valuable to them. Uh...besides guarding me, which I really hope is a high-profile assignment by the way, what do they have you do?" Xander asked.

"As I said, I am the champion of the realm. Thus, I am charged with defending the kingdom from its enemies. As a warrior of Pylea, I keep the kingdom safe-"

"And how exactly do you do that? 'Cause you don't strike me as the safety inspector type," Xander lightly chuckled.

Groo looked confused again. {This cow says many things that do not make sense to me.} "I know not of this safety inspector you speak of, I defend the kingdom by fighting."

"You kill people for the priests, just on their say-so," Xander observed.

Groo frowned at what he suspected was an insult. "I fight my enemies in battle-"

"During which you kill them, because the priests want them dead. Whoever they are, they're inconvenient to your masters. So, who were they? Fellow warriors like yourself?"

"Most of them..." Groo said, with a very slight hesitation.

"By definition then, some of them weren't. So what were they? Ah, lemme guess...slaves, right? Cattle like me, who knew they had to fight for their freedom. People who wanted the right to live where they wanted, and *how* they wanted? To sleep in a clean bed. To choose who they had children with. You know - the little things, that most of the citizens around here take for granted," Xander said cuttingly.

Groo clearly reacted poorly to his words. "They needed to be defeated, in order to protect the kingdom!"

"Don't you mean to protect the priests, and their favored subjects? Face it, Groo, they just don't want anyone rocking the boat. Why else do you think almost no one around here knows about my world, where the cows like me would slaughter them all if your masters dared show their faces openly?"

The Groosalugg's face went red with shocked anger, but Xander kept going. "Lemme tell you something as one warrior to another, I've met cows just like these priests - and I *know* what I'm talking about. Those guys? They don't care about anything except themselves, and the power they have. And you're better than that. I've seen you watching all this..."

Xander rattled his chains to emphasize the point. "You're not happy with what you've witnessed happening in this room; I mean, how could you be? This isn't a fair fight on the battlefield. Where's the noble purpose in doing things like this, to a helpless captive? Bottom line, you can't help feeling that what you've allowed to happen here - is wrong. And you hate yourself at some level, because of that." 

"I do not-" Groo didn't finish, before Xander interrupted him.

"Look, regardless of what eventually happens to my ass Groo - you have to decide for yourself what's right, and what's wrong. Otherwise, you'll just be a puppet for the rest of your life - which I'm sure won't last forever! Think for yourself. I *know* you can do it. You can even change things for the better..."

Suddenly Xander's mind remembered a phrase from an old Star Trek episode, the one where an alternate universe Mr. Spock had a beard and looked like a pirate - that felt perfect for the occasion. "In every revolution, there's one man with a vision. Be that one man!"

The Groosalugg was amazed to find himself mesmerized by Xander's speech. {He is indeed a worthy opponent, in the ways of warfare. It is a pity we never met before this, in the fields of combat.}

But Groo was prevented from responding, by the door to the chamber opening and Barshon returning for more interrogation. "Good, you're awake..."

**Camp Pendleton, California. That evening**

"We cannot do-"

"-what you ask-"

"-of us."

"What the hell do you mean?" Cleburne replied to the Furies testily. He had not expected this response.

"Only certain places-"

"-can be used to-"

"-create such a portal."

"To get to Pylea, or just in general?" Cleburne asked, as he looked from Fury to Fury as they did the tag team answer thing.

"What you require cannot be done here," The eldest Fury then pointed at a map on the wall of the conference room. "However, it can be done there," she said.

Cleburne peered at where the Fury was pointing. "You have *got* to be kidding me," he said in disbelief.

"We would not-"

"-kid you or anyone else-"

"-in this matter."

Cleburne just shrugged, and opened up the cell phone. "We'll need a fast plane."

**Private conference room, House of Commons, London, England. Later that night**

"Thank you all for coming. I know it's late and all of you have places to be, but the situation has grown extremely grave - and we need to discuss options."

Alec Cummings sat still, and listened to the senior civil servant. The man's career had not suffered too much, from the fiasco over Xander last year; even if the Watchers had naturally been screaming bloody murder, after the spy had not backed them to the hilt at the Army-Navy Club during that confrontation with STW.

Cummings knew though that the Council had been behind his recall back to the United Kingdom.

Quentin and his Watchers, even after being effectively kicked out of the United States, still had friends in high places within the British political arena. An organization that had existed that long naturally learned of information that would be embarrassing to certain parties, if it were ever to be seen in the light of day.

However, his bosses in MI-6 hadn't really punished him. When he'd arrived back in London, Alec had found that he had actually been promoted, his security clearance heightened beyond its previous level. He was still acting as liaison with the allied intelligence services, and even the Americans still worked with him just fine.

The Watchers had complained, of course, but they weren't the only organization that knew secrets. MI-6 was the elder statesman of the espionage art, having been in the business for centuries in all its various forms - and wasn't easily bullied. Cummings' transfer had been solely to appease one or two powerful ministers in Whitehall; and those men knew better than to push the issue, as to who sat where in the London headquarters.

The Watchers had then metaphorically pouted, and literally caused trouble wherever they could. MI-6 had ignored them, and tipped off Siberian Trip Wire when appropriate, in response.

The problem was that the Watchers Council had gotten more and more erratic as time had passed, or more accurately the leader of the Council had - Quentin Travers.

Which was the point of the meeting, as Cummings refocused on what the civil servant was saying.

"You are all aware of the events of the past year. Organizations and individuals within the realm have engaged in a pattern of behaviour that threatens one of our most fundamental foreign policy relationships. If they are allowed to continue, Anglo-American relations could very well deteriorate back to where they were during the mid-19th century!"

"Come now, I can't believe things could get that bad from just one Yank spy organization being annoyed at us. The politicals in the U.S. do have a habit of ignoring their career intelligence people," one of the people from the Foreign Office spoke up.

"Yes, that has been true in the past. However, the nature of the incoming Bush administration is such that they, of all possible U.S. governments, will be very sympathetic to the Siberians' concerns," Alec announced.

"In what way?" one of the relatively junior civil servants asked.

"Well, for example, Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld was once on the committee overseeing their activities - as was the current President's father, and Vice-President Cheney. Secretary of State Powell has also interacted with them in the past. Thus in my professional opinion, if anything happens to completely alienate us from the Siberians - then we will almost certainly end up with no friends in the Bush administration," Cummings announced to the suddenly-worried audience in the room.

"What could happen that would so enrage the Americans?" another middle-level civil servant asked.

The senior civil servant spoke up. "I believe that our guest can best explain that, and what has prompted us to hold this meeting." He nodded to the end of the table.

Roger Wyndham-Pryce put down the cup of tea he had been drinking from. "Gentlemen. The Council, in particular Mr. Quentin Travers, is worried that the man known as Alexander Harris may give vital information to the law firm Wolfram & Hart. Information that may very well endanger the entire existence of our world..."

There were nods from around the table, as all those present had been briefed on Xander's captivity - as well as who and what he was.

Roger finished up, "Thus, the Council is contemplating drastic action. In short, once he's been located - the assassination of Mr. Harris has been authorized by my organization."

"As a last resort, of course? If there's no other option," one of those present asked.

Roger shook his head. "You obviously do not understand what Mr. Travers considers to be 'no other option'. He does not consider it as a situation where Mr. Harris is beyond recovery from the forces of darkness; the head of the Council has determined that unless the man is within the custody of our group, he is to be eliminated. To put it in its bluntest possible terms, unless he has Mr. Harris in a cage - Travers intends to kill him." He paused for a second before continuing uncomfortably, "He, ah, is also intending to assassinate those who might shelter him from the Watchers."

The room was deathly silent, as the facts relayed by the Englishman sunk in.

The senior official from the Ministry of Defense spoke first. "If I understand you correctly, you are telling us that Quentin Travers is contemplating launching a covert war against a legitimate security agency of the United States government."

Wesley's father nodded, once. "That is precisely what he is preparing to do."

"Does he understand that this would cause a massive retaliatory response not just from Siberian Trip Wire, but from almost certainly *all* the American intelligence services?"

"I do not believe so. In any case, Travers believes that their power in relation to the Council had been overstated, by those opposed to this move. There have been some off-hand remarks about the colonials not even being able to kill Castro."

Cummings felt his eyes widening. "He *does* understand that we're not talking about the CIA or any of the other agencies known to the public, I take it? The Siberians are not really subject to any public scrutiny - and that the only possible restraint on their actions is if they're willing to obey orders from the American National Command Authority!" Cummings was referring to the political cadre that immediately surrounded the President, and was involved in decisions involving nuclear weapons.

"The head of the Council feels that the political leadership of the United States would not sacrifice the special relationship between our two countries - over a matter such as this one," Wyndham-Pryce replied stoically. It was obvious that saying all this, was bringing him no pleasure...

"Wait, it gets worse," the most senior civil servant said.

"What? How?" Cummings asked in disbelief.

Roger took a breath and continued. "There will also be attacks on those who might harbor Mr. Harris, but haven't done so yet."

"Such as?"

"Certain...independent demon hunters located over there; Mr. Harris' former friends in Sunnydale, and Los Angeles."

"Doesn't your-"

"Yes, my son is included in that number, even if that is neither here nor there at the moment," Roger said with a sigh. "It has become obvious that Quentin thought he could hide the developing situation from me. Fortunately, several individuals within the Council informed me of the plans..."

Another sigh. "And to be perfectly honest - I might not be here tonight, if that was the extent of it all. However, according to my sources Travers won't just limit his targets to the people I have mentioned so far. He also intends to hit several other intelligence services, which have benefited from Mr. Harris' information. The Germans, Japanese and Israelis, amongst others."

"Bloody hell..." Cummings said out loud, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"Indeed," the white-faced official from the Foreign Office said. "The man's gone completely mad, that would be a disaster of Biblical proportions. Your organization can't possibly win against a dozen enemies that would instantly unite to kill you all! And if our involvement becomes public - Her Majesty's government would become an international pariah! So what do we do?"

Wyndham-Pryce stood up at the question. "I have a suggestion, but I would require your assistance to implement it..."

**Camp Pendleton, California. Later that night**

"It seems to me to be a bit overkill," Hollins observed, as he studied some battle plans.

"No. I want the ability to handle *any* kind of situation, once we get to Pylea. Lorne tells me that the ocean isn't too far from the priests' stronghold, so it's an ideal solution," Cleburne replied. "Once we get to the site the Furies picked, they tell me they can open a portal to get us there."

"And how will you get authorization for it?" Esther asked. She, like Hollins, felt that Cleburne was going a bit overboard as usual.

"Don't worry about that part of it."

"Joshua, for heaven's sake, I can tell you right now that the Committee won't authorize this. And you know that they're already talking about pulling the plug on the whole operation, don't you?" Esther asked.

It was a mark of the respect that Cleburne felt for Mrs. Marcum, that he didn't snap at her for that observation. He just growled and opened up the cell phone he had been carrying around, "Screw the goddamn Committee. I'm going over their heads on this one!"

**The dungeons of the Imperial Palace, Pylea. The next day**

Barshon was getting nervous. Well, 'nervous' wasn't the quite right term. He was downright panicked. Because his time was running out.

Never before had a cow withstood the questioning that Barshon was skilled in delivering. The priest had used all the techniques he was familiar with; the ones that had never failed him before.

Until now.

Xander Harris had withstood everything that Barshon could think of. The only thing that Barshon had not tried was cutting off limbs. And that was only an ultimate last resort now, as it had been his experience that more often than not - the cow whose limbs had been amputated died from shock and blood loss, before the interrogation could be completed.

And the liaison from Wolfram & Hart had made it clear that they had to be sure that all possible information had been pried from the prisoner's mind, before it died. So Barshon couldn't risk the possibility of death just yet.

So, he kept trying the old standbys and hoped that the repetition would eventually break the cow.

The problem was though, that he didn't have an unlimited amount of time.

Silas had made it clear to Barshon that he was getting impatient with the lack of results. He had told his right hand demon that he expected results soon - and if he didn't get them, well, Barshon no doubt remembered what had happened to his predecessor.

Indeed, the deputy priest clearly remembered the screams, and would do so for the rest of his days.

So here he was, working like crazy to get Xander to crack.

It wasn't a pretty sight.

Harris swayed a little bit, held up solely by the chains linking him to the dungeon's ceiling. The human had not weathered Barshon's attention well. But just as much as Barshon was determined to break Xander, the prisoner was determined to resist his tormentor.

It was kind of like what happened, when an irresistible force met an immovable object. Right now, the object was winning...

But Xander knew that at some point, something would happen to change that. He just couldn't figure out, for the life of him, what it might be.

"Cow, I am losing my patience. Tell us what we want to know, and I promise to make your death somewhat pain-free," Barshon snarled at his prisoner.

"Somewhat?" Xander queried his captor with a raspy voice.

"You still need to be punished for the disrespect you have shown me and the other priests," Barshon declared. "There may be a need for a public execution, to remind the cattle of their place in the scheme of things."

"Worried that your grasp on them is slipping? I can see how, after your big slip in here earlier," Xander joked.

Earlier that day, Barshon had slipped on the pool of Xander's blood. Harris had laughed out loud, and even Eli had suppressed a chuckle at that sight. Naturally, Barshon had not been as jovial at that event.

Xander strongly suspected that he had at least one broken rib, from Barshon's displeasure of his clumsiness. And Barshon still didn't see the humor in the situation, as he backhanded Xander viciously.

"Cow, the more you delay and defy me, the more painful your death will be," Barshon. "Submit. It will be easier on you."

"Let me guess, you want me to tell the Scots to submit to the King of the English? I'll be sure to shout out 'freedom', before you disembowel me..."

Barshon looked confused, again. After all, he had no way to even know of the existence of the movie '_Braveheart_', let alone how it ended.

"I do not care what you shout out," Barshon reached up, and grabbed one of the fingers on Xander's left hand. "Just as long as you tell me what I want to know." He then, with a smile on his face, viciously twisted one of the fingers. "Of course, I wouldn't mind you screaming in pain before we kill you."

Xander thus screamed in pain. For quite a while, too.

In the corner of the room, Groo inwardly cringed. He had been thinking about what Xander had told him, he couldn't help it. He had also been watching Barshon conduct the interrogation.

Nearby, Eli also watched. He just hoped that Xander would crack soon - as the less time he spent here, the less of a chance Harris would have to kill him.

Xander panted heavily for a few seconds. "Tell me what you know," the demon said with definite menace in his voice.

"Okay, okay," Xander said, in between deep breaths.

Barshon leaned down in triumph. {At last!}

Xander looked him square in the eye. "I know that I'm going to enjoy killing you. Every single moment of it."

Barshon leaned back, his face full of rage and anger. An inarticulate scream emerged from his lips, as the red-robed demon almost lost it. "Enough! Too much! I cannot kill you, but I will make you wish that you were dead..." He stalked over to the kettle, where they kept the pokers to keep them warm. He grabbed one, and headed back to Xander.

"What, you're going to tickle me again?" Xander asked.

Barshon came up and shook his head. "No, cursed animal. Something different." He brought the red-hot poker up, to within inches of Xander's face. "Do you remember how I was here, when that fool Vakma entered your mind? I heard everything you said..."

With his free hand, Barshon punched Xander in the gut as he moved the poker in front of his face. "I heard you, when you were talking to your cow friends. I heard you talking to Anyanka, and the others. I heard what happened, when you listened to the one you called Buffy. You once lost your eye, didn't you? And that seemed to bother you..."

{Oh, shit!} Xander started to struggle and lean back from the poker. Barshon's free hand lashed out and grabbed Xander's head firmly, preventing him from moving away from the poker.

The demon continued talking, "Perhaps I should blind you? Just in one eye, though. I'll keep the other intact, so that you can see what else I'm going to do. Would you like that? Now we both know I cannot get to your cow friends. Although if I could, I would! But there are plenty of cattle here in Pylea..."

A smirk. "You will watch me torture to death some of them - the young ones, the helpless ones. You'll hear their screams, their pleas for mercy. Don't worry, I'll leave your ears intact. You'll hear every whine, and every grunt. And you will know that they die, solely because of you..."

Xander was now equally enraged and worried. He struggled futilely against Barshon's grip.

"They'll curse you. I promise you this, they'll know it's your fault that they suffer that way. I might even make it harder on you and them. Torture the young offspring of some of the cows, in front of their life-givers. Can you imagine the screams under such circumstances?" Barshon asked, a sadistic look of pleasure on his face.

Xander only responded by spitting in his face. {I'll kill you somehow! I don't care about the how's and wherefore's, one day.}

Barshon only chuckled at his act of defiance. "You'll pay for that, but first - I must attend to that damned cow eye of yours!" He moved the poker towards Xander's left eye.

Xander felt the panic growing in him. {No. NO! Not again - I can't go through this again! It was bad enough, the first time around.}

Then suddenly, for some insane reason - a white wedding ceremony appeared in his mind's eye. {What the hell? What - where did *that* come from? } his mind frantically wondered about the image.

Then Xander understood. {Of course} Caritas, the night after he and the Siberians had gotten back from that hell dimension where he had been held as a slave for 4 1/2 years.

Lorne had told him that he would be dancing at a wedding during 2004, with both eyes intact. Instead of mourning Cordelia Chase, at her grave. That was what was in store for him, in this timeline. {Just gotta trust in fate, I guess. He fails, this damn demon fails somehow...at least, I hope so! }

Xander felt at peace with that knowledge, and so simply said, "Do your worst, asshole."

Barshon smiled, and thrust the poker at Xander's eye.

"I do not think so."

Barshon looked in shock at Groo.

For the Groosalugg was holding his arm, and forcing it back from Xander's eye. "What are you doing?" the priest managed to gasp out.

"This cow has accused you and the other clergy of many things, things which at the time I refused to believe could be true. But from your own words and deeds, it has been proven right; you and the Covenant do not have the best intentions for the kingdom in your hearts."

"You have gone mad!"

"I think not. Torturing children, even cow children, in front of their life-givers? Such an act is beneath even the lowest beggar of the realm. The cow was correct; you have no honor." Groo threw Barshon to the floor.

The red-robed demon leaped up, and swung the poker at Groo's head. The warrior simply ducked and punched his opponent in the face, hard.

Very hard.

Barshon went down for the count, without a sound. And in the corner, Eli's eyes were as big as saucers. He turned around and fled the room, "Help! Help! Guards! Guards!" he screamed as he ran.

Groo got the keys to Xander's chains from Barshon's robes, and undid them. And despite all his intentions, Harris almost completely collapsed in Groo's arms.

"We must hurry. I know a safe way out of the palace," the Pylean said simply.

Xander nodded, and staggered in the direction Groo indicated. "Thanks," he managed to get out, as the champion of the realm helped support him.

Groo nodded. "In your place, I-I could not have done as you did. Even though you are an enemy of the realm, you are an honorable warrior - and I could not stand by and do nothing. Yet in so doing, I have betrayed all the oaths I have taken..." He took a breath, the enormity of his actions hitting the Groosalugg before he spoke again. "You loved your mate very much, didn't you?"

{Now I get what Lorne was saying back then. I did the right thing in refusing Wolfram & Hart's offer to bring Faith back, and the Siberians are coming for me.} And as Groo helped him to the passageway Xander - his mind still a little bit rattled from the torture - replied blearily, "I love all my friends very much..."

TBC...


	5. Chapter 29

**Part Twenty-nine**

**The Imperial Palace, Pylea demon dimension. January 26, 2001**

Groo led Xander through the corridors, as they left the dungeon behind that night. They had been lucky so far, in that they hadn't encountered anyone despite Eli's screams for help. Because with the shape he was in, Xander knew that he would be unable to fight any of the guards if they had been encountered.

But even in his current condition Harris, his inner Soldier Guy had still managed to start thinking ahead. {What's the operational plan? Where are we going? Think! } he shouted in Xander's head.

"What's the plan?" Xander managed to ask.

"I do not know. All I am certain of right now, is that we must get out of the palace; even though I am the champion of the kingdom, even I cannot fight all the guards alone and win," Groo replied.

"You won't be fighting them alone," Xander replied with determination.

They paused, as they came to an intersection. Groo looked around the corner to make sure the coast was clear, before continuing, "Your sentiment is admirable...ah, I do not know your name..."

"Alexander Harris. Call me Xander, though."

Groo went on, "Your sentiment is admirable, Xander, but you need to rest and heal yourself before entering into battle. For now, it is best that we escape and find a place for you to do this."

{He's right. Avoid and evade for now. But escape first} the soldier persona declared in Xander's mind. "Okay, lead on Groo. We'll have to start the revolution later," Xander chuckled.

Groo didn't have a chance to respond, as he and Xander had to hide in a storage room for a while as they heard a group of guards hurrying towards their position. And after they had passed, they continued on their way.

After a few minutes, Groo stopped and leaned down. He opened up a trap door in the floor. Xander looked down and saw some kind of liquid, a definitely nasty-smelling liquid, within the chamber below.

One that in another world, Cordelia Chase would have baulked at entering after Wes and Gunn had already lowered themselves into it.

"Where does that go? More importantly, what is that stuff?" Harris asked.

"This tunnel leads to the forests outside of the village. As to what 'that stuff' is, you do not need to worry, you will be able to walk through it." He motioned for Xander to go through the trapdoor.

"Okay, but you didn't quite answer my question," Xander observed as he dropped through the trapdoor. He stifled a grunt, as his body hit the liquid.

"Indeed - I did not," Groo replied, as he followed Xander through the trapdoor and quietly closed it shut behind him.

**Caritas Karaoke bar, Los Angeles, California. The next day**

Lorne poured himself a drink, in the quiet of the now-closed nightclub. He glanced around; two of the waitresses were still here, and Ametila was one of them. She had a worried look on her face.

After Cleburne and Red had finished talking to Lorne, the Navy commander had talked for a few minutes with his girlfriend. Lorne could tell that his employee wasn't too happy about whatever had been said, but she couldn't be too angry either.

From some questions she'd asked, Lorne understood that she knew her boyfriend was going off somewhere, putting himself in harm's way.

She just didn't know where.

Lorne had a pretty good idea, though. The two men had wanted to know everything they could about Pylea. And the Deathwok clan demon figured they weren't planning to write a travelogue brochure about the place! They had not seemed too happy with what they had learned from Lorne, either.

The Host suspected that wouldn't stop them from going, though. {Well, could be worse; they could have hauled my tokus along as well, wanting a native guide or whatever. Boy, am I glad it didn't come to that! }

He raised his glass to them, wherever they were. "Good luck, you kids. You'll need it."

**The North Atlantic Ocean. Later that evening**

The noise of helicopter almost drowned out all noise. Almost.

Cleburne felt the tapping on his shoulder. He turned, careful to not disturb the Furies who were sitting next to him. He saw Gunny motioning at the headphones. Cleburne, who had turned them off for a few minutes, flipped them back on.

"I just got the report. They've got the package safely on board. As soon as we're aboard, they're ready to go." Gunny looked troubled for a second. "You sure about all this, Colonel? You've burned an awful lot of bridges tonight."

Cleburne nodded. "Yeah, 'cause you know the drill; no one gets left behind. We're going to go get him."

**The Imperial Palace, Pylea. A short while later**

Silas was not in a good mood. Actually, he was absolutely livid, and even that was putting it mildly.

Ever since Eli had run into the throne room screaming about Groo attacking Barshon and how the cow was sure to get loose now, Silas had been unable to concentrate on anything else. The head of the Covenant was still somewhat outraged by Eli's behavior to run that way from a cow, that was inexcusable for any member of the kingdom; but since the accountant was practically an enemy spy, it was something to be ignored in pursuit of more immediate concerns.

Namely, once Silas had figured out what was going on, he had moved swiftly to secure the palace. He had hoped to isolate the *problem* within the confines of his private domain. However, he hadn't been successful.

No doubt the Groosalugg had been able to avoid the guards. He had been given the run of the palace for years, after all; and no one had ever thought he might betray his masters like this. {He knew too much, obviously. I was a fool to grant such liberties to anyone with *cow* blood! Treachery comes to them, as naturally as breathing.}

Despite Eli's words on what had taken place, it was beyond comprehension to Silas on how such a thing had happened. {After all, we raised him from the moment the Groosalugg was cast out of his home, we took him in when no one else would. We gave the damned creature sanctuary. How dare he turn on us like that? }

Silas cooled his anger for a second, by contemplating what form of punishment he would administer. {Oh, yes, and I mustn't forget Barshon either.}

When Silas had led the guards down to the dungeon, he had discovered it empty. Groo and the cow had escaped. And the head priest had almost screamed in rage at learning that, just barely preventing himself from showing such weakness...

Outside of the dungeon, they'd found the unconscious bodies of two guards. Silas had immediately ordered them executed, for their failure to prevent the escape. He would have done the same to Barshon, if only he'd been able to find his lieutenant. {Make that *former* lieutenant} Silas corrected himself.

But Barshon had been nowhere to be found. Clearly, he knew the price of failure and seemed intent on fleeing from his proper punishment. Silas had learned from one of the guards that shortly after the escape, his former deputy had gotten a horse from the stables and fled the palace.

The head priest had immediately ordered that if Barshon was encountered, he was to be captured alive if possible. Not that Silas was going soft in his advancing age; he just wanted to be the one to kill Barshon himself.

His anger at events was momentarily distracted, by the entry of the Captain of the Guard into his chambers. "What?" he asked, unable to hide his anger.

"My lord, we have found the method by which the cow and the half-breed used to escape from the palace. There is a passageway through the sewers. We followed it, and found where it exits into the woods outside the village," the guard announced.

"I see. What steps have you taken?"

"I have ordered the search parties to concentrate on looking in the woods. We think they may have a trail to follow; the cow appears to have been wounded quite badly by the questioning, and there has been discovered cow blood at various spots in the forest," the guard captain quickly replied.

Silas nodded in satisfaction. "Good, good, you show admirable initiative." He then approached the minion, "Have you ever considered applying to join the Covenant, Captain? We could always use someone of your talent." {Particularly now that Barshon needs replacing.}

The head guard bowed his head in supplication. "Sir, I never dared dream I could even be considered for such a honor." The Captain of the Guard knew what had transpired involving Barshon though, and so he'd already been figuring out in his head how he could get promoted to that slot.

"Continue showing the ability and initiative that you have so far, and you may very well have such a honor bestowed upon you. Take personal command of the search, and let me know of developments."

"Yes, my lord. And I swear that when I find the former Groosalugg, after I bury my spear in his rump - I will bring you the traitor's heart on a silver platter!"

Silas looked amused for a moment, forgetting about the rage somehow. "Captain? His heart is where a cow's is..." The demon pointed to his chest. "Here."

"Disgusting..." The Captain of the Guard bowed and started to leave the chamber, but he stopped when Silas spoke again.

"Also, before you leave, be sure to see that our guest from the...Senior Partners...is well cared for. I would hate for him to wander off somewhere, and be harmed."

**The nearby woods. The same time **

Barshon pushed his horse to gallop faster. The woods seemed to fly by him.

As soon as he had woken up in the dungeon, he had known that he had only one choice left on what to do. Well, that wasn't completely true, he could have stayed and been killed for his failure...

But no sane being would have wanted to explore *that* option.

So the demon priest had hurried to the closest stable and grabbed the fastest horse available. He then had galloped off into the woods.

If he wanted to live and retain any power within the priesthood, he had to personally recapture the cow. Not to mention, he had to bring back to the head priest the severed head of the Groosalugg. He had to break the cow and learn all that it knew...

Then maybe, just maybe, he might live.

"Damned cow," Barshon muttered. "You'll pay for this. You and everyone you care for..."

**The Pylean woods outside the village. January 28, 2001**

The next day found both refugees still trying to outdistance their pursuers. Suddenly Xander stumbled a little bit, { Damn it.}

"Are you all right?" Groo asked at once.

"Not really. I'm a fugitive, in a demon dimension where humans are considered cattle and slaves. I'm the most hunted person in this world, as well as my own. I've been slapped around pretty hard. I can taste my spleen. It's been a week since I've had a good cup of coffee. I'm thinking I'm not going to see the Super Bowl, if I haven't missed it already," Xander joked.

"So you are not all right, then?" Groo asked earnestly.

Xander laughed lightly, as he steadied himself by leaning on a tree. "Let's just say I've had better days. So Groo, if you don't mind me asking, where are we headed?"

"For now, we need to get as far as possible from the palace. The priests no doubt are greatly desirous of our return-"

"Which would be of the bad," Xander interjected.

"Yes, it would be bad," Groo continued. "For now, we need to find a safe place to rest for a while. After that, well..."

"What?" Xander now was curious.

Groo seemed uneasy at the next suggestion. "There are some rebels in hiding, cattle-"

"Humans. Please don't call them cows, because believe it or not - we're not mindless animals," Xander corrected Groo.

Groo looked at Xander for a second. "Yes. Humans, not cattle. I shall have to remember that. In any case, these rebels have been fighting the Covenant for years..."

"Not too successfully, it looks like!" Xander commented. He noticed that Groo did not look happy all of a sudden. "You fought them in the past, didn't you?"

"Yes. I have fought many battles against them, over the years."

"And defeated them?"

Groo shook his head. "I have personally killed many of their kind, for the priests. Slaughtered them, without mercy. Too many to count, possibly."

Xander grimaced at piece of news. "So I'm thinking, they won't react well to your presence if we try to hook up with them?"

Groo shook his head again. "No, for the Covenant considered them the biggest threat to the fulfillment of the prophecy."

"Prophecy? What prophecy?" Xander asked. {Damn! No matter what world I find myself in, there's *always* got to be a prophecy to show up somehow! }

"That one cursed with visions from the Powers That Be would arrive in the kingdom, and be anointed the monarch of Pylea. And after the com-shuk ritual, my demon blood would absorb said visions. This would enable the champion, again me, to triumph against any and all enemies of the realm," Groo explained.

"Someone with visions from the Powers?" Xander said half out loud. {Oh, that's right - Cordelia! Willow said something once about her having gotten back from a demon dimension, after she went there to tell Angel about Buffy dying...a few months from now? My God, how quickly the time's passed! But anyway, that prophecy must have been meant for her! Huh, guess then that's another bit of the future that I've thrown into turmoil.}

Xander shook his head. "Come on, Groo. We'll worry about the rebels later. For now, let's get away from the demons looking for us."

Groo nodded. "Yes, one step at a time. Now I have heard of a series of caves up in the mountains, that might serve our purposes..."

**Warehouse 23, unknown location. Later that day**

"Mr. Rayne?"

Ethan Rayne looked over at the source of whoever had mentioned his name. A middle-aged black woman was standing in the corridor, outside his cell. "Well, now - you're new, aren't you? I don't suppose you're here to let me go?"

"No, Mr. Rayne. Sixty days in custody is not appropriate for the interference you had planned for our electoral system," she replied simply.

"Come now. Just some harmless fun," Ethan joked badly.

"So you say, Mr. Rayne, but such 'harmless fun' in the past has led to all-out war. You may have heard of it, we called it the Civil War. We take such things quite seriously," was her reply. "However, you might be able to obtain some time off for good behaviour."

Ethan raised an eyebrow at that. "How? I mean, I've been answering the annoying questions from your insufferable little whelps in the lab coats. By the way - is it just me, or are they all too young to even drive?"

"New blood, Mr. Rayne, it's how we learn things. Some things only a young mind will see; things that us hidebound old folks often miss."

"Why should I help you willingly? After all, I've not even seen the sky since I woke up here!" Ethan snapped back, for indeed his pallor wasn't the healthiest.

"Mr. Rayne, I know of beings who have seen neither the sky nor the ocean since the late 1920s. By their standards, your sojourn here is nothing more than a quick nap."

Ethan inwardly shuddered at that. Plus from what he had seen of his captors, that statement did surprise him not at all. "Then why do you need my help? Surely they could help you better than I could?"

Esther Marcum shook her head. "Actually, we have trouble communicating with them. Their thought processes are...different from that of humans. There's no common frame of reference - and to be honest, some of them we don't trust enough."

"And you trust me?" Ethan said with a smile.

"No, but we know we can scare you. And we also know that we can reward you. It's entirely up to you, which you'd prefer."

Ethan thought for a second. "I take it this is the best you can do? Then I want to see the sky. I want to be let out of the cage, every once in a while."

Esther nodded once. "Very well. Arrangements can be made here for that."

Ethan smiled again. "Good, now what do you want me to do?"

Esther nodded off to the side, and three men in military uniform stepped forward. Ethan noted that one of them was a Native American. "These three here, we want you to teach them everything you know about opening interdimensional portals."

**The local mountains, Pylea. The next day**

Xander idly wondered what day it was back home. He had trouble telling the time here; since there were two suns, that threw off the internal clock he had normally relied upon. It didn't help that back at the palace, he hadn't really been able to keep track of the days either; it was almost funny how being tortured, caused one to lose track of time.

And there was another thing Harris tried not to think about. The last time he'd been in this sort of situation, he'd spent years away from home - while only a few hours had passed there. {Wonder if this time around, by the time I get back to Earth - I'll be in my late twenties, or whatever?}

Xander slowly shifted his weight; his injuries were healing, just not as fast as he wished. He looked out at the morning suns. Another thing he wasn't used to. {I wonder if the roosters in this world have to do double duty? Wouldn't surprise me.} 

He looked around, and saw Groo, with a sack over his back, approaching the camp they had set up. They were in a small gully under some foliage, at the moment. It looked like it had been as well hidden as they could make it.

Groo sat down next to him, and handed Xander some berries. "Here, eat these."

"Are they safe?" Xander asked.

"Yes, I've seen other humans eat them before with no problems." Groo had remembered this time to use the word humans, instead of cattle. Xander felt proud that he had made some progress on that front.

Reassured by his companion, Xander took the berries and ate them. And to be honest, they were damned awful. Normally he would have spit them out in disgust, but considering the shape he was in, he was happy to have any kind of food. "Any signs of our pursuers?"

"I saw some patrols in the distance, but they were headed deeper into the woods. I believe that your plan to throw off the guards by *doubling back on them* has worked. They are searching further and further away from us."

Xander could sense the satisfaction within from the soldier's instincts working out so well. "Well, I've had some experience in these matters," he commented.

"The priests are most anxious to have you back. More than I would have thought possible," Groo said hesitantly. "If I could ask, how did you come to be so valued by so many different groups?"

Xander sighed. "It's a long story, buddy. And no offence, but there's a lot I can't tell you; things that have to kept secret."

"Yes, the strange demon from your kingdom seemed to place great stock in anything you might have mentioned. I know that he went back at least once, to report some of the things you had told him and promised to do."

Harris smirked. "Well, that's nice to know. Hopefully, Lilah and Lindsey are wetting their pants right about now, if the news that I'm on the loose has reached them..."

"Your enemies fear you? That is good in a warrior. You must have fought many battles and defeated many foes, to be so regarded," Groo said knowingly.

"Well, I've been in my fair share of scrapes and handled myself quite well, if I do say so myself - but that's not why they fear me," Xander replied, looking around for something to wash the taste of the berries out of his mouth.

Groo handed over a flask to him. Xander raised an eyebrow at that. "Where did you find that?"

"There is a farm about half a mile from here. I was unable to get into the house, but there were some supplies in an outbuilding. This was there. I filled it up with water from a stream I came across. Do not worry, the water is safe to drink."

Xander accepted the flask and took a drink. "Anything else of use? Food, weapons maybe?"

Groo shook his head. "No, there were no weapons - and the food was where the masters and slaves were. I could not get close to it, without drawing attention to myself. However, I did find you these." Groo took out a Pylean shirt and a pair of boots from the sack he had slung over his back.

Xander slipped the shirt on over his naked chest, and then took the boots. "Just like Santa Claus..."

Groo looked confused. "This Santa Claus, is he a bootmaker?"

Xander stifled a laugh at that. "No, dude, he bring gifts to children, carrying them in a sack - like the one you have there."

Groo looked thoughtful at that. "Hmmm, he sounds like a nice human."

Xander laughed at that. "Jovial." He tried on the boots. They were a little tight, but they would do in a pinch. He then looked up and saw Groo pulling another item out of the sack. Namely, a pair of pants.

"The ones you wore in the dungeon are quite filthy. You've had them on for several days. They also have a strong odor, that you may or may not have grown accustomed to."

Xander sniffed, and realized that Groo was right. "Good point. We don't want the guards smelling us now, do we?" the human said, as he took the item of clothing.

"No, that would be extremely regrettable," Groo remarked, looking aside as Xander changed. "We must bury your old clothes. We do not want to leave anything behind for us to be tracked by."

Xander just stood up, and noted that his new garments were a little big. And after the former prisoner tugged here and there to make sure the size of the clothes wouldn't be a problem, Xander and Groo dug a hole in bury Xander's old clothing in.

"Okay, we've now done more before nine in the morning than most people do all day," Harris quipped, the soldier persona remembering an old slogan.

Groo again looked confused. "Where you come from, people must not do much during a day..."

Xander chuckled again, there was something endearing about Groo's naiveté. Of course, he did have a point; back home, people didn't work nearly as hard as they did here in Pylea.

But then, slavery would do that to you...

A thought entered Xander's mind, as Groo and he started to walk. "Groo, you told me not long ago - that the priests have been in charge around here, for like thousands of years. In all that time, why didn't the cattle ever rise up and stop being slaves?" he asked.

Groo looked away for a second. "The Covenant has always been worried about that. That is why every slave is fitted with a collar, to discourage such an act."

"Uh, and why exactly do the collars prevent slave revolts?" Xander asked in confusion.

"They explode, when necessary. Each slave-owner has a button he or she can push, to blow up the collar of their slaves."

"I take it this blow-up is very bad?"

"Indeed. The slave's head is utterly destroyed by the blast, ending its life."

"Yeah, I can see now where that would stop a slave revolt. Headless slaves really wouldn't pose a threat to the demons around here! But - hasn't anyone ever overpowered their owners, and taken away the button?" Xander ducked down to avoid a branch.

"Not unless they have somehow disabled the collar first. As there's something else; in the palace, there is a machine that can send a signal to all the collars at once. Every slave in the kingdom would be killed, if the priests thought they were losing control," Groo replied.

"Groo, no offense to you, but even though your former bosses aren't exactly on my good side from roughing me up like that - they seem to keep finding reasons for me to really hate them," Xander said bitterly.

The Groosalugg sighed, thinking about all the things he had done - that he now regretted. "I must admit, Xander, that I now feel shame at having served them. I look back upon all the acts of my life, and cannot help questioning everything I had ever believed was true," Groo declared. "It is most upsetting, this feeling of sudden change."

Xander nodded. "I know, I've been on the receiving end of that feeling a few times myself," he remarked. "As a matter of fact, it's one of the reasons I'm currently in this mess."

"That is how you came to have this knowledge that the priests seek?" Goo asked.

"Yep, really nasty spell that backfired badly. I had amnesia, see, due to spending nearly five years in a hell dimension. And I'd say your old bosses would have fit in real well there, by the way! Bottom line is, I repressed the memories of who I was to get through my time there, and eventually escape."

"Is this all?"

"No; when I got home, only a few hours had passed. Eventually, a friend of mine did a memory-restoration spell - but she botched it. Willow didn't realize that I had more years than she thought to remember things, due to time moving differently in that hell world. Thus, she gave me memories of our future."

The champion of the realm actually stumbled at hearing that, as he and Xander stopped for a moment. "You know what is to come? Yes, I can see where that knowledge would be *most* valuable..." Groo said in wonderment. "And that must be of great benefit to you, in fighting your enemies-"

"No - 'cause it's a curse, pal, not a benefit. On account of history can change and *has* changed a lot, from what I remembered - at least for some things. That used to cause me head-splitting pain, almost literally sometimes. The doctors I've talked to, they think it's on account of the human brain was never designed to carry a burden like that. It's also why I'm hunted, and never really safe at any given moment, no matter where I go. And that's just part of the problem."

"There's more? You cannot be that cursed, surely?" Groo said with wide eyes, as they started off again.

Harris smirked for a moment. "Oh, but I am. I surely am. Because I don't even know who I am anymore, sometimes."

"I do not understand."

Xander sighed, deciding to talk about something he'd always kept quiet about before - even with Oz. "Groo - part of me is my older self, from about 2 1/2 years into the future. With memories of all the good and bad stuff, mostly bad, that I lived through. And another part of me is a soldier, based on someone who lived decades ago - from after I got possessed one night. I remember a lot from his experiences; it's how I survived my time in that hell dimension..."

Xander took a short break, as they crossed a creek. Then he resumed, "And last but not least, I've got the remains of a hyena possession up there in my head, too."

"Hyena?" Groo was unfamiliar with the word.

Xander frowned, trying to remember what Vakma had called it back in the dungeon. "A...Hui-tal?"

Groo again stumbled and stopped. He stared at Xander in disbelief, "The scavenger of food? The spirit of such a low creature possessed you? How is this possible?"

Harris snorted. "Again, long story. But the short version is that about 8 1/2 years ago, I tried to be a hero and went where I had no business going. Fortunately, I was cured before I killed or raped anyone, unlike four others who were also possessed with me at the same time..."

Groo shook his head, as the duo started off yet again. "It sounds as if you have lived a very interesting life, my friend."

Xander laughed. "Yeah, guess you could say that. I've never really been bored ever since my sophomore year of high school, anyway..."

"Sophomore? High school?" Groo asked.

Xander waved a hand at his companion. "Don't worry about it. But high school - it's a place where, uh, human children are educated, for what's to come later in life. At least, that's the theory! Me, I have a pretty different take on the whole deal. Yeah, my experience with it was *definitely* different, from almost everyone else's..."

"You did not enjoy it?"

"No, not at all. That's where practically everything went wrong in my life. Possessions, zombies, demons trying to mate with and/or kill me, soap opera girlfriend problems, almost turning into a fish, friends abandoning me...lots of bad mojo went down there, trust me."

"But you survived it, your strength triumphed in the end," Groo said, trying to understand. "And we have a saying here in Pylea; that whatever does not kill you, only makes you stronger."

Harris eyed his companion strangely. "Yeah, funny how we have a saying too - which says that exact same thing! But the point is I just survived life in high school, I didn't triumph over anybody. Well, apart from maybe a dead Mayor-snake...anyway, surviving and being victorious in battle, there's a big difference between the two," Xander snorted.

"Sometimes, my friend, they truly are one and the same thing," Groo declared, as despite being an innocent in some matters - he was very wise and experienced in the ways of war.

"Yeah, but it sure didn't feel like it - then and there. And now, I feel..." Xander paused for a second, trying to find the words to express himself. "...isolated. I feel like...like there's no place I'll ever really be able to call home again. No one group that I'll ever truly belong to. To put it bluntly...that I'm all alone in this hostile universe," Xander said, almost wistfully.

Groo nodded in understanding. "I also have that feeling. All my life, I did not fit in; for my people believe that to be only part of something, is to never truly belong to it. And I was shunned for most of my life, because of my appearance - as well as the fact that I could not even perform husbandly duties, with the women of my tribe..."

"Huh?!" Xander exclaimed. "You guys didn't have the Pylean version of Viagra around, back then?"

Groo frowned. "I know not of this 'Viagra' you speak of; I was referring to the fact that I am anatomically equipped to mate only with human females."

"Oh," Xander blushed. "Sorry, my mistake-"

"My point is that the taint of co...human blood branded me an outsider. The closest I ever felt to being accepted, was when the Covenant took me in. However, I see now that that was only to take advantage of my abilities-"

Groo stopped suddenly, and looked off into the distance. He pointed off into the distance, "The caves are that way. If we are not intercepted, we should be there by nightfall."

"And after that?" Xander asked.

"I don't know. We shall have to determine our actions then, but I have no doubts that together - we will come up with something," Groo replied with a shrug.

The so-called *timetripper* suddenly stared at his companion. "Groo...I have a confession to make. Ever since you helped me escape from that dungeon, there was always a slight suspicion at the back of my mind that this was all just a trick, you know? Something to lower my defenses and get me to talk to you, tell you all my secrets..."

Harris looked slightly ashamed. "But I've met back-stabbin' bastards like that before, and you're not one of them. I know now that I was wrong to think that about you - and I'm sorry I doubted ya like that, man. I really am."

He looked down and waited for Groo to be outraged, to leave him at once and make his way alone from hereon out. But the Pylean surprised Harris by briefly grasping his forearm tightly and saying with a smile, "I am honored - to have received the confidence of one who *truly* knows the shape of things to come! Now let us hurry, my friend, before the patrols find us!"

Xander just stared, before he started to follow Groo in amazement.

**The Bermuda Triangle. Later that day**

"This is the location-"

"-that you require-"

"-for your plan to take place," the Furies announced.

Cleburne nodded. He idly checked his watch. {Looks like we're going to miss the Super Bowl, damn it.} He turned to the ship's captain, "Captain Harmon, you'd best get your crew ready?"

The woman in U.S. Navy uniform quickly picked up the phone in front of her, on the bridge. "This is the captain, now hear this. All hands below deck, I repeat - all hands get below deck immediately!"

A klaxon could be heard blaring. She hung up the phone and turned to face Cleburne, "Just for the record, I'm still very goddamn uncomfortable about all this!" Harmon declared. It had taken quite a bit of doing for the Siberians to wind up here.

"Harm's way, Captain Harmon. Give me a fast ship and a star to steer her by, for I intend to go into harm's way," Cleburne replied.

"Yeah, but does it have to be on *my* ship?" Harmon muttered.

"Captain, all hands are now below deck," the ship's executive officer reported.

Cleburne turned from the captain to the Furies. "Ladies, if you please."

The Transuding Furies started concentrating and chanting. After about 30 seconds, a huge glowing portal appeared a short distance directly in front of the seagoing vessel.

All the bridge crew's eyes went wide, but being professionals none of them said a word. "Captain, if you're ready?" Cleburne said, without taking his eyes off the mystical gateway.

Captain Harmon sighed - as her last vague hopes that this whole crazy thing was just a smokescreen maneuver, or whatever, vanished. {Yeah, talk about wishful thinking. And I just *know* this is something that I'm damn well going to regret later.} "Helmsman, full ahead."

With that, the ship rushed forward towards the portal - and soon enough, in a wild ride that its crew would remember for the rest of their lives as an incredible rush, into another world.

**The Magic Box, Sunnydale, California. The same time**

"Come on, honey, you can tell me all about him. Because I *know* you've developed a schoolgirl crush," Joyce said teasingly, as she held the door open for her youngest daughter. And the ex-Mrs. Summers was just glad to finally be out of bed, and part of the world again.

"I do *not* have a crush," Dawn declared. "Mom, you're just imagining things!"

Joyce shook her head. "Honey, I know all the signs. Believe it or not, I was young once too. I went through the exact same things, that you're going through right now-"

"Oh, so your sister was a superheroine fighting evil all the time?" Dawn quipped.

Joyce paused. "Okay, maybe not *all* the same things that you're going through, but I did know of these weird specimens called boys. I discovered them, oh - right about your age," her mother replied.

"Mom..." Dawn whined. She had really hoped to distract the parental unit with that comment about Buffy. Because she *really* didn't want to discuss with her mother her new-found feelings about the boy named Kevin Berman. On account of the girl had met him just the day before, and been instantly smitten...

At first, Dawn had been on cloud nine; fixating on him, whispering about him to her two girl friends, and even trying to catch his attention. Then it had hit her, shortly after lunch.

All that time, she hadn't thought *once* about the late Xander Harris.

The brunette teenager had almost felt sick to her stomach, once she'd realized that. Was she really that shallow, that seeing a pretty face had made her forget the love of her life? Ms. Summers had moped around the rest of the day over that, puzzling her friends - who'd grown slightly worried about her.

{Was this how Buffy felt about Angel?} she had idly wondered to herself, during the day. {Is this what it feels like to move on, after the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with - is gone?}

When Joyce had picked her up, the mom radar of the elder Summers woman had kicked in - and Joyce had known there was something going on requiring a mother's touch. Seeing Dawn wave goodbye to a boy, the Kevin Berman in question, she had correctly guessed that the crush situation she had been expecting for a while now - had finally arrived...

Joyce actually welcomed it somewhat; she was hoping that this new infatuation would help Dawn put behind her all those Xander issues she had, which had seemed to come to the forefront over the last few days. Also, it was a nice change of pace from the events and angst she normally had to deal with. It was a nice, normal mother-daughter issue; not like what she'd gone through when Buffy had had her first big crush, Angel.

Not that Buffy's love life had improved that much since then. That Greg person was turning out to be a big disappointment. His cowering in the closet while everyone was fighting for their lives against the Knights of Byzantium had not helped matters at all. Joyce shook her head, and returned to thinking about Dawn's problem.

"What, you don't think that your mother just popped into existence when you were born?" Joyce joked. But on the inside she instantly regretted the quip, being one of the three who knew of the circumstances of Dawn's creation.

"Damn it, Andrew - you can be such a geek!"

Both Joyce and Dawn had their attention diverted to the cash register, where Anya and her boyfriend were having a private discussion - that was rapidly becoming very public.

"Anya, you're causing a scene..." Andrew whined.

"Oh, you want to talk about causing a scene? How about last night, at the party! I swear, I have never been so embarrassed in my entire life - and we're talking over a thousand years worth of existence here! I mean really, *Andy*..."

{Uh-oh.} Dawn actually winced at Anya's use of that nickname, as she knew that Andrew hated it. {Something tells me this is gonna get ugly.}

"Here I am, trying to get all my old friends to accept me again. And y'know, they're not the most tolerant of human beings, and they're really uncomfortable with me being one of them now! But what you did..."

Anya waved her arms in a huff as she continued, not noticing that several customers were edging their way to the door. Both Joyce and Dawn scooted out of their way.

"Hey, I behaved myself! I mean, you never told me they were coming - and, and anyone else might have run from the room screaming..." Andrew replied.

"That might have been preferable, compared with what actually happened! But nooooo, you had to go and try to act all smooth and suave with a succubus. Do you have any idea how damned *silly* you looked? Besides, you were there as my boyfriend - what were you doing, making time with Monique? Oh, and by the way, what *is* it with men and French women - even demon women? You all seem to lose control, and drool over them..."

As the volume increased, the door to Buffy's training room in the back opened up and Giles stepped through it. He saw the last of the customers leaving, and instinctively took off his glasses and started cleaning them. {Anya's good with the business, no argument there, but good grief - she can be so tiresome at times!} he thought in irritation.

"Anya, please. Some decorum?" Giles chided his business partner.

"Oh come on, Giles, you know what I have to deal with! And what with everything's that happened, I can hardly even control myself. You get that, right?" Anya pouted.

"I can understand being in an arrangement where, where the other party constantly does things that are unexpected and unwelcome," Giles commented, but Anya clearly didn't realize that he was referring to her.

"See, Andy, Giles agrees with me!" Anya crossed her arms, and stared at her boyfriend; who gave up and started pleading for forgiveness.

Rupert sighed, and idly wished to himself that Anya had chosen someone else as her significant other. {Annoying as she is though, she does make some salient points about the blasted sod.} "Anya, I don't need to caution you about driving off the customers again, do I?"

Anya looked around in a panic. "The customers? They're gone. They left, without giving me their money? NO!" she shrieked, and turned back to glare at her boyfriend.

Ms. Jenkins was prevented from shouting again though, by a loud curse from within the back room. A rat suddenly scurried past Giles, which was quickly followed by Jonathan Levinson.

"It's Amy! Don't let her get out!" he shouted, as the scene in the Magic Box quickly degenerated into a three-ring circus.

Joyce and Dawn quickly made sure the front door was shut tightly. Anya and Andrew moved further back behind the counter, and Jonathan and Giles eventually captured the rat - who was indeed the former Amy Madison, trapped in animal form now for nearly two years.

Willow, followed closely by Tara, rushed out of the training room carrying a cage. "Did you find her?" the redhead asked breathlessly.

"Yeah," Jonathan said, as he placed Amy back into her cage. "Wow, that was a close one!"

"Terribly sorry," Giles apologized. "I, I shouldn't have left the door open-"

Jonathan smiled. "Hey, no harm done. I should have kept a closer eye on her myself."

Willow and Tara came up next to Jonathan. "I-I-I'm sorry. I really thought we had gotten the spell right this time," Tara said to her student.

"Well, I think if I hadn't missed that last phrase from being startled by the screaming - I'm sure it would have worked! But now, we've got to get more sage," Willow added with a sigh.

"Don't worry. I'm still hopeful that we'll be able to do this eventually," Jonathan said with a shrug.

"Well, if not for Andy here, I'm sure you guys would have succeeded!" Anya declared as Giles, Dawn, Joyce, and Willow just rolled their eyes, knowing that another tirade was about to start.

What they didn't know was that right next door to them, Lemke also rolled his eyes as he listened in on the whole exchange.

The STW scout had finally been able to place a listening device in the Magic Box. He hadn't done the same for the Scoobies' homes, he didn't want to risk detection; but he'd figured that the risk for the Magic Box was worth it.

The system was designed such that the Scooby conversations were recorded, and Josef could play them back later at his leisure. Besides, this way he actually had a better warning of anything weird happening; the computer had been programmed to instantly alert him in the event of certain key words being spoken.

Words that Xander had personally told him about, that indicated possible end-of-the-world scenarios.

Because this was a slow working day, the shopkeeper had decided to listen in during real time for once. And Lemke sighed, as he heard Anya start tearing into her boyfriend once more. {Cleburne, I swear - when I retired, I didn't think helping you would be *this* annoying!} the man thought to himself, as he settled in to listen to the antics playing out in his ear.

**Pylea demon dimension. January 30, 2001**

The following day, the female slave known as Ponla toiled in the fields. It was a hard work, but then there really wasn't any other kind of work for the slaves to do here in Pylea; and if she worked any less enthusiastically, well - she had been punished for it before, and the woman really didn't want that to happen again.

Still, the human kept stealing glances up into the sky. She had seen a strange bird far off in the distance. Ponla didn't know much about birds, but she was pretty sure that they weren't supposed to glint in the sunlights like that. {Strange}

The bird was so far off at times, she wondered if she had been seeing things. Then the creature, which had been circling high in the sky, suddenly disappeared below the horizon.

Ponla just went back to work, knowing that if she let it distract her too much from her duties, well - she could feel the collar around her neck, and knew exactly what it could do.

**Not far away. The same time**

Xander crouched down, trying to get closer to the ground. Next to him, Groo did likewise.

Their attention was fixed on a farm that was several hundred yards away. Several slaves could be seen working the fields, as a demon worked around the house. Every once in a while the demon would stare out, and observe the slaves. An occasional shout could also be heard.

"These guys really need to get Caesar Chavez to organize them," Xander quipped.

Groo continued looking at the farm. "If you mean organizing the slaves, know that their masters keep a careful eye out for any such action. If they believe the slaves are organizing, action is taken to prevent it."

"Action?" Xander asked.

"It depends on the individual in question. The priests have made examples of those who were organizing through the use of the collars. They also do the same for their family members. Sometimes, they will do the same with a random number of slaves."

Xander shook his head. "I've said it before, Groo, but I have to say it again. I *truly* dislike your former bosses. We really need to do something about them..."

"We cannot, for if Lord Silas thinks that he is losing control of the situation, he will activate all the collars at once - killing all the humans."

"There has to be a way around that," Xander said thoughtfully.

"Perhaps. In my experience - a few slaves going missing here and there, the Covenant would not be concerned enough to explode all the collars. Any more, and they would. It is a very fine line," Groo observed.

"And I bet that deep down, they don't care about the potential loss of slave labor - because they can always find more slaves elsewhere, later. It sucks," Xander said, his mouth a grim line of disgust.

"I do not know exactly what you mean by 'suck', but if you are saying that it is bad, I would agree," Groo replied.

"How much longer till they break for lunch?" Xander asked. The plan was for Xander and Groo to sneak over and steal some supplies, when the lunch break came.

Slavery was the same everywhere, in the general scheme of things; even though they were beneath the citizenry, the humans still needed to eat. As starving them did not make for good workers.

Groo looked up in the sky, to judge the location of the suns. "It should not be too long. Even if he does not care about the humans, the farmer himself will want to eat."

So Xander and Groo lay there and watched. Suddenly, the Pylean stiffened.

"What's wrong?" Xander asked.

"There is movement on the other side of the farm," Groo said.

"Guards?" Xander said, squinting as he looked to where Groo had indicated. He saw a faint rustling of some leaves and thought, { Yeah, he's right, someone's there. Damn... }

"No, they would not be hiding that way. The guards of the Covenant do not feel that they have to skulk or hide, under any circumstances. Their arrogance precludes that."

Any further observation by Groo was headed off, by a scream from the farm. Xander turned his attention back there. One of the human slaves had fallen down, and her demon master was heading towards the woman - with a murderous look on his face.

"Damn cow! You broke it! Do you know how much that particular equipment cost!?" Xander saw a broken plow near where the slave was. The demon continued yelling, "I've had enough. It's time for me to get a new cow, but first I have to get rid of you!" The demon pulled a device from its belt.

"He's going to kill her!" Xander shouted, as he jumped up and started running towards the demon.

"Xander, no!" Groo shouted. But seeing that his companion wasn't going to heed his call, Groo just took off after him.

Harris covered the ground as quickly as he could. He could hear the slave begging for her life, as he ran. But the demon farmer just cursed the whole time as he fiddled with the controller in his hand, paying her no more attention than one would a dog.

Xander yelled at the top of his lungs, unleashing a primal scream of rage and hatred - one that had been festering within him, ever since Barshon had first shoved that poker into his guts. The demon looked up in shock, as the charging human came closer to him.

"What in the name of Tarkna..." he growled. But the demon's eyes widened, when he saw that there was no slave collar on this charging human. And before he could do anything else, Xander tackled him.

The two of them fell to the ground. The demon managed to scramble back up, and started to attack Xander - who had arisen as well. But ignoring the pain in his body, Harris used the Jeet Kune Do techniques Cleburne had taught him...what seemed like a lifetime ago...and punched the soulless thing, hard in the face.

The demon just shook it off, as after all - demon skin was tougher than human skin. He reared up to attack Xander, but his eyes widened as he saw Groo showing up as well. "The Groosalugg. We were warned about you. Help!" the slave-owner shouted to the house.

At the house another demon, presumably his wife, could be seen exiting. She saw who was out there, and started screaming herself. She then ran the distance from the farmhouse to the barn, disappearing inside.

The male demon went to follow her, but Xander quickly grabbed his neck. And just like Angel would have done to a cyborg warrior in that other world, Xander twisted swiftly and was rewarded with a loud snap - as the demon's neck was broken.

With a snarl of satisfaction Xander released his hold, and allowed the corpse to fall to the ground. The collar controller fell to the ground next to it. Groo and Xander stared at each other for a second, the female slave just watching the scene in a combination of horror and relief.

Suddenly - a horse ridden by the lady of the farm came galloping out of the barn, and swiftly went off down the road. Xander instantly estimated that she was too far away to be caught, and so didn't bother running after her.

"She'll go find the local constable, his name is Narwek; and he'll tell the priests what has happened here. They'll know where to look for us now," Groo said, as the other slaves gathered around them.

Xander reached down, and grabbed the collar control. "Is there a way to get the collars off?" he asked.

Groo nodded. "Yes, the priests have a circuit built into the controllers for the collars to be removed. This allows the collars to be reused."

Xander handed the controller to Groo. "Do it."

Groo took the controller, and fiddled with it for a second. He was rewarded by several clicks, as the collars on these slaves opened up and fell to the ground.

Xander looked around at all of them. "Run. Now. And I *do* mean run for your lives; the demons will be here soon, and I don't think they'll act very kindhearted to anything human around here..."

The slaves just looked at each other for a second, before heeding Xander's advice as they scrambled off in different directions.

Before Groo and Xander followed them, the pair searched the barn and house for anything they could use. After about ten minutes they exited the farmhouse, carrying some provisions. Not only that, they had armed themselves; Groo had grabbed a sword, and Xander had decided to take an axe. {Never was too good with a sword, anyway. Damn it, I wish I still had my old .45 with me.}

"We need to get away immediately," Groo noted. "They will soon know that we're here, and no doubt the Covenant will concentrate all available guards in the area..."

Before Xander could say anything - a short, black-haired woman peeked around the corner of the house. She was as thin as a rake and dressed in rags, like all the humans around here; and a faked slave collar was in her hand.

"C'mon, y'all, we gotta hurry. 'Cause it'll be bad here soon. So, so, follow me!" the woman said with a Texas accent, and a somewhat crazed look on her face.

**The local ocean, Pylea. A couple of hours later**

"Most of the activity seems centered here, at this settlement." The U.S. Navy lieutenant leaned over, and pointed at a building on one of the aerial photographs. "This structure here, it appears to be what you'd call the local administrative center. It also appears to double as a religious building, of some kind."

"What else?" Cleburne asked, with his arms folded. He, Red, Rachael, Oz and several Marine officers were looking over the aerial photographs they had just received.

"There also appears to be a barracks and stables attached. We also think there are some storehouses under there, as we've seen supplies being taken in."

Cleburne nodded. "I'm thinking then that's where the trigger will be. From what Lorne told us about the demon priests that run the show around here, they strike me as people who would keep their toys close at hand."

"The problem is, I suspect, that once the shooting starts and they think their monopoly on power is coming to an end - they'll push the button out of pure malice. Even if we hit them at full throttle, there's a good chance that someone will still go for the mass executions," Red commented.

"They probably have someone ready to do that anyway, in case of such an attack," Oz observed.

"Well then, the package will just have to work..." Cleburne turned to one of the Marine officers, who was dressed in a flight suit. "Isn't that right, Major?"

**The Imperial Palace. The same time**

"The woman is certain, you say?" Silas asked.

"Yes, Lord Silas," the Captain of the Guard replied. "She has seen the Groosalugg before, and her description of the cow matches that of the escaped prisoner."

"Good, good," Silas nodded. "You are of course going to bring them to me? Alive?"

"Yes, my lord. All the guards taking part in the search are concentrating in the area. I leave as soon as I am done here, to personally lead them."

"I won't keep you, then. Go!"

**In the woods, within the local mountains. A couple of hours later**

Xander and Groo hurried to keep up with the young woman, who had approached them at the demon's farm. She moved quickly, and Xander was having trouble keeping up in his wounded state.

"Hey, what's your name?" he managed to ask. Harris knew better than to ask for a rest break, as every minute they were moving was a minute they put between them and those hunting them.

"Fred. Fred is what I go by, at least - I think I do. Golly, it gets hard to remember! I think it's not what I was named, but it works for now. Oh, oh, I don't know you. But I know him!" she nodded at Groo. "I've seen him in action. The priests' enforcer, like the men in black. Get out of line - if the collar doesn't get you, the Groosalugg will!"

Groo looked at ashamed at Fred's comment. "That was before, when I didn't realize-"

Fred looked over her shoulder at Groo, not slowing down. "Realize, realize what? Killing people's wrong. Being a slaver was wrong. Generally, you know when things are wrong. Like when Lutzbalm got laughed off the stage back in '89, because of his theories. It's like breathing, you know breathing, you just don't suddenly wake up one morning and realize that you're breathing wrong..."

Not having heard the name Burkle, Xander just noted that this Fred seemed to babble a lot - like Willow did. He decided to divert the conversation to a safer topic, "Fred? Where are we going?"

"My cave is nearby. We can hide there, it's safe. They've not found me there before, so y'know, at least I'm pretty sure it's safe," Fred responded, again with that slightly crazed expression.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Xander said, as he hurried after her.

All of a sudden, a Drokken beast - one that had been destined to appear in Caritas, in a few months time - leapt out of the bushes, snarling. Xander had no time to shout a warning; he just threw himself at Fred, barely getting her out of harm's way from the deadly claws of the beast.

They both hit the ground hard, as Groo drew his sword. "Go! I will slay the Drokken, and then catch up with you!"

As Xander and Fred got up, the physicist's eyes went wide as she saw the demon. Then she gazed at Xander in wonder, "Handsome man...saved me from the monster..."

Harris paid no attention to her or the horrible pain, and judging angles and distance - as well as throwing his axe at the right moment - hit the Drokken beast in the back with his weapon. That distracted the thing, at least long enough for Groo to cleanly decapitate it.

The former champion of the realm quickly cleaned his sword of the demon blood, yanked out the axe and tossed it back to his comrade-in-arms. "Thank you, my friend. Now let us get moving - as I suspect we have no time to lose! This particular beast, it looks to be one of the few that the guards use to track slaves..."

He pointed at the leather collar the Drokken had worn around its neck. "Its master cannot be far behind."

Xander looked at what Groo was pointing at. "Not of the good," he muttered.

"Indeed. And you did not do as I said, and leave," Groo said, eyeing his companion.

Xander frowned a little bit. "You should know me better than that by now! I told you what happened to me, man, how I felt at being left behind. Well, I'm not doing that sort of crap myself! I am not leaving you behind." He turned to Fred. "Either of you."

Ms. Burkle smiled at that, in her own crazy goony-bird way. "Thanks, I don't want to be left behind - or leave you behind!" She suddenly stiffened.

"What?" Xander asked.

Fred held up her hand in response, tilting her head up as she did. Both Groo and Xander did likewise, trying to hear whatever it was that had spooked Fred.

After a few seconds, Xander heard the distant sound of horse galloping. He looked at his two companions. There was no need to say anything, as they also knew full well what it meant.

"Come on!" Harris said anyway. "We gotta get to those caves *fast*..."

The three of them instantly started sprinting, in the direction that Fred had pointed out as leading to her home for the last five years.

**Nearby, half an hour later**

The Captain of the Guard stopped his horse, as a messenger rode up to his group. "What news?"

"Sir, we think we've found them!"

The Captain frowned at the messenger's choice of words. "You *think*?"

"One of our Drokkens was tracking something in the woods, then it ran off. When we caught up to it, its head had been cut off."

The Captain nodded. "Yes, that would mean someone with a sword had been found by it. And since we don't let the cattle carry swords, that would mean - the Groosalugg."

"Or the escaped slave?" the messenger asked.

The Captain looked angry at that. "No cow, even that particular prisoner, would ever have the temerity to fight a Drokken; even the relatively domesticated ones like ours! It had to be the Groosalugg. Take me to where you found the body!" he commanded.

The demon scout just nodded in submissive deference, and led the Captain to where the ape-like demon's corpse was.

**The local ocean. The same time**

"Is everything clear, Major?" Cleburne asked.

The officer nodded his head, as he checked his flight suit. "Five-by-five, Colonel. Get in, deliver the package, then get out."

"And keep in mind getting out is important, I don't want you affected by it as well!"

The Major smiled at Cleburne. "No worries there, sir. I don't plan to be flying a dropping brick anytime soon, so I'll be sure to be out of range when the package deploys." The Major then put on his flight helmet, and made his way across the flight deck to a waiting Harrier jump jet.

Cleburne and Red both watched the jet take off. Cleburne checked his watch, "We should get started..." So the two of them started walking over to a line of helicopters on the flight deck, that was warming up.

"Gunny, throughout history, there have not been many armies like us. Most armies fight for land, for pay, for money, for women. They fight, because a king tells them to do so. However, we're an army going out to set other men free," Cleburne said.

Gunny grinned at Cleburne's monologue. "Sir, you've been reading "The Killer Angels" again?" he asked.

"Well, yeah, I couldn't sleep last night!" the Marine colonel replied sheepishly. "I always liked Chamberlain's speech in that book, anyway."

"I know - you've mentioned it to me before, quite a few times," Gunny replied.

Both he and Cleburne then ducked their heads, as a SuperCobra attack helicopter took off down the flight deck from them. "The sooner we get out of the way, the sooner the Navy can get the rest of the MEU on deck for takeoff..."

The two of them arrived at a waiting Huey helicopter. "Come on, Gunny, let's go get the kid!" Cleburne said, before the rotors of the helicopter starting up drowned his voice out.

**The Imperial Palace. Several hours later**

For the first time in several days, Silas felt himself beginning to relax a little. The Captain of the Guard - the priest made a mental note, to actually learn his name sometime soon - had sent a message by courier that they now knew where the prisoner and the Groosalugg were.

Not to mention, the Captain was confident that they would be cornered within the next day or so. After all, there were only two of them against almost the entire palace guard.

Silas at first had been concerned at sending so many of the guards away from his home. However, in the end, he had reassured himself that it was an acceptable risk. The cattle wouldn't revolt, now of all times; what were the odds of that happening? They knew the collars could be all blown at once. So really, what could go wrong?

His attention was suddenly drawn up in the sky to a strange cloud, one that was incredibly thin and long. More importantly, it seemed to be moving. {That's odd} The leader of the Covenant thought to himself.

Silas then thought he saw another, similar cloud further in the distance. That cloud was heading in the other direction, while the first one seemed to coming towards the village.

However, it was staying at the same altitude as it had started at. And suddenly, it blossomed into a bright light.

{WHAT is that?} Silas instinctively threw his hands up. However, the light wasn't that bright. It disappeared rapidly, as the demon brought his hands down and looked around.

He could see that several of his subjects and slaves were in the village square, looking up as well. Silas then heard one of the guards rushing up to him, "Sir, are you all right?"

"I believe so. That was...strange," he observed. The red-robed demon could see the sounds of confusion from down below, outside the palace. "I suppose that I should make sure that whatever it was that happened, isn't used to disrupt the proper balance of things. Come with me," he commanded.

The two of them made their way through the palace to the massive doors in front that eventually led to the village square. He nodded to the guards there, and they opened the doors for him. A medium-sized crowd had already gathered.

Silas stepped out, radiating arrogance. He held up his arms to attract the crowd's attention. {This is annoying, but then one does what one must.}

However, whatever words he had planned to say died on his lips - as the demon looked up at the sky, and saw something completely beyond his comprehension.

TBC...


	6. Chapter 30

**Part Thirty**

**The local docks, Pylea. January 30, 2001**

Drykan of the Gathwok clan looked up from his work, fixing fishing nets. His attention, and that of the slaves he employed, had been drawn to the sea - by a loud roaring noise. Drykan focused on the sea, although he couldn't see much because of the fog.

{That's odd, it's too late in the day for fog.} the demon then thought to himself. He knew these waters and shores well. He should; the demon had lived and fished them all his life. Drykan was good at it also, as the number of fishing boats and cattle that he owned could testify to.

Several of his boats were out right now, captained by family members of his. He would have been out there as well, but the demon felt it better to oversee the repairs and keep an eye on the cattle; there had been rumors going on about them acting up lately.

Something about a cow in the palace, causing some sort of trouble or another. The grey-skinned demon didn't know the facts and was confident of being able to handle any of the cattle that got out of line, but he kept his controller close nearby nonetheless.

Now though, he was beginning to regret that decision.

"Master, what's going on?" one of the slaves came up in a panic.

Drykan backhanded the offending slave. "Quiet, you lousy cow! If I wanted to hear pointless chatter, I'd get my no-good brother drunk on flip liquor..."

The human slunk away, not wanting to anger his owner any further. As Drykan was a firm believer in showing the cattle just who was in charge around here.

Drykan stepped towards the shore. He saw several others of the village's citizens milling around the docks, also. To be honest, it wasn't much of a dock, but it served the purpose of tending to his fishing boats and help with the feeding of Pylea's inhabitants.

The roar seemed to be getting closer. And the fog was beginning to disperse. {No, that's more smoke than fog, but for that much smoke - it must be a huge ship on fire, bigger than anything I've ever encountered!}

The demon fisherman's observations were cut short, when he saw several squat box-like shapes emerge from the smoke. They were headed towards the shore, at a high rate of speed. Several of the other demons started moving back from the shoreline, upon seeing them; as whatever they were, these things had a definite air of menace to them.

Drykan, however, did not step back. He was more bullheaded than the others, well - 'stupid' was how he was sometimes described, in whispers well out of his earshot.

In any event, the demon watched intently as the ships - for he could now tell, that was what they were - came to the shore. He did take a step back, when a few of them kept right on going onto the shore itself. The fisherman could see that these ships had some kind of balloons underneath them...and then he started to worry. {Balloons? What is this? What kingdom do these strange vessels hail from? }

A loud clanging drew his attention back to the ships that had stopped at the edge of the shore. The fronts of several of them had dropped forward, and Drykan suddenly saw something that shocked the hell out of him.

Cattle, cows with what appeared to be weapons and uniforms, running out in formation.

"No!" he shouted, as he fumbled with the controller on his belt. "It's an uprising. Kill all the cows!" the slave-owner shouted out to the other demons nearby.

He brought the controller up to explode the collars under his purview, when Drykan felt a hard hammer blow hit his chest. This was followed by several other such blows.

Drykan didn't get it. No one had been within arm's reach... {How is this happening?} But unfortunately, no answer was forthcoming as the demon toppled backwards. On the ground he tried to catch his breath, but the bullets had hit both his lungs; and all the fisherman could do was wheeze - with a horrible sucking sound.

Above him appeared one of the cows that had come off the ships. A dark-skinned specimen of cattle...who looked utterly unafraid of him. In fact, the cursed animal looked down in *contempt* at Drykan.

"Damn slaver," it spat out, as the cow's foot impacted on Drykan's side - and the demon felt the utter humiliation of being treated in such a manner. "Ought to nuke every single one of you, the moment we leave..."

**The Imperial Palace. The same time**

Lord Silas ran down the corridors of the palace, with a feeling he had never really experienced before.

Mind-numbing fear.

Oh, in the past he had been in situations where he had worried about his physical safety, after all - one did not get to become the high priest around here, without making enemies who wanted to do you great physical harm.

However, that was always in familiar circumstances and a known quantity. What had just happened was definitely *not* a known quantity to Silas.

As he had prepared to speak to the citizens, strange large birds had appeared in the sky. They were metallic, and some of them did not even have any wings. They had made an incredible roar, as they flew over the heads of the dumbfounded citizens...

Several of them had flown to the watchtowers of the palace, and had smaller birds shoot out from under their wings. When those smaller birds, leaving a trail of smoke as they moved, had reached their destination...the towers had instantly exploded into huge fireballs.

Silas had not had a chance to gape in shock at this for long, as the birds without wings had approached where he was standing. They had wafted down to the ground, the air coming from their movement throwing plenty of dust and dirt into the air, and landed outside the palace gates. The head demon had noted in passing that three of the smaller ones had gone to land in the courtyard, inside the palace itself...

He didn't have much time to notice that though, as they and the birds that landed in the village square suddenly disgorged large numbers of cattle.

But these cows were not like the animals that Silas was used to. They were well dressed, in what were clearly uniforms of some kind. They wore armor and helmets on their heads. They carried items that Silas took to be weapons.

And most importantly, they did not show any fear towards the demons that ruled Pylea.

Silas had watched in horror as two guards, who had approached the cattle outside the gates to properly discipline them, instantly fell to the ground with mortal wounds - even though the cows in question had not even touched either of them.

Silas had fled in panic at that moment, shouting at the guards to close the doors to keep the cattle out. Moments later he knew that they had failed in that assignment, as the head of the Covenant heard screams and the muffled explosions that had accompanied the slaying of the first two guards.

Silas had also heard the shouts of what must have been the cattle. "Their asses! Their hearts are in their left butt cheeks, so aim there God damn it!"

The demon priest could suddenly feel everything falling apart, as he ran. He heard and felt several more explosions, of the kind that had destroyed the watchtowers. He also heard the smaller explosions that accompanied the cows themselves.

"Damned cattle!" Silas screamed. But he quickly regained control of himself, as he entered one of the anterooms that were present in the palace.

Several of the other priests were present. They immediately started clamoring for Silas to lead them, to tell them what to do...

"Silence!" he shouted. "Remember yourselves. They are only cows causing the problem! Yes, they have strange weapons, but they are still only cattle!" That seemed to quiet the fear the other priests had, for the moment.

Silas turned to the youngest priest present. "You, go to the stable and get the fastest horse. You are to go and get the palace guards that are hunting the escaped cow. Tell the Captain to come back with all his men, immediately."

"But the prisoner..." the young priest stammered out.

"Can wait for now. We must maintain control here, first and foremost. Now go!" Silas almost shouted. The priest in question just nodded, and dashed out of the antechamber.

Silas turned to the others. "Fan out, find what guards and other priests that you can. Then head to my audience chamber. We will gather our forces there, and then subdue the cattle somehow."

"The collars?" one of the priests asked.

Silas hesitated. He knew that if worse came to worst, he could push the button to explode all the collars. Yet to do that could very well cripple the kingdom economically, as much time would be needed to gather new slaves. He knew that the last time all the collars had been exploded, it had taken years to rebuild properly...

And that was on account of one of the disadvantages of running a slave state is that when all the servants are gone, the masters weren't very good at the labor necessary to keep society functioning.

"Not yet. We need to know first where the rebels got their new toys. We need prisoners to interrogate. There will be time later to explode the collars." He looked at the priests. "Now go!" Silas shouted.

None dared disobey.

**Elsewhere in the palace. The same time**

Eli paced around the room that he was being held in. {How the hell did I get myself into this mess?}

The domicile wasn't a cell, and was actually quite comfortable. However, the accountant was under no illusions about whether or not he was free to leave. The priests clearly did not want it to get back to Wolfram & Hart that the prisoner has escaped just yet.

Still - right at the moment, Eli knew that the priests had bigger concerns. He had seen out of his window the jets and helicopters that Silas had been shocked by. And unlike everyone else, he'd known instantly what they were. {Holy shit, the cavalry's here!} He thought in dismay.

Eli had heard the rumors back home about the government attacking Wolfram & Hart, to retrieve the prisoner he'd been monitoring. And now it looked like they had found their way here to this dimension, despite all the odds and reassurances he'd been given otherwise.

Suddenly, the LA demon started pounding frantically on the door. He knew he had to get out of the palace quickly. He had heard enough about the governmental men in black not to want to be here, when they took over.

Which made his stomach lurch even more, when the door finally opened.

And two Marines aiming their M-16s at him appeared.

Eli quickly raised his hands. "Hey, no! I'm not one of them! I was...I was forced to come here! And, and I'm an American!"

The two grunts just stared at him for a moment, the disbelief obvious on their faces.

"Okay, so I'm not human, but still! Ya think any of these people would know about baseball, Mom's apple pie, Thanksgiving - and how the latest Presidential election was almost a tie? Come on, you guys, we can work something out - right?"

And then, Eli sighed at the incredible cliché. "Take me to your leader..."

**The stables of the Imperial Palace. Fifteen minutes later**

The young priest that Silas had ordered to find the Captain of the Guard, stumbled into the stables out of breath. Normally he could have made the trip from where he'd started to here in less than five minutes, he knew the way well.

Today, however, he'd had quite a few problems. These new cattle with their cursed weapons had seemed to be everywhere. What guards had been left in the palace, seemed to be no match for them. Six times, the priest had come across the remains of some guards. He also had noted he hadn't seen any bodies of these new cattle.

{This is bad, this is really bad.} He thought to himself. Unlike the other priests, the youth wasn't yet jaded enough to always be thinking up ways to get more power. He just wanted to be part of the Covenant for the job security and benefits. {After all, just how many jobs here in Pylea have a retirement pension? Only one, and I've got it.}

He saw the horse he had mentally picked out a few minutes earlier. It was the fastest one in the stable, a massive black stallion. He hurried towards it.

"A good choice. He's a magnificent beast."

The priest came up short, at the voice from to his right. A cow walked into his line of vision; it was a craggy, blonde older one. The demon thought for a second that if it had been a slave, the creature would have already been 'retired'. But wisely, the priest kept his mouth shut about that.

The cow walked up to the horse, and stroked his mane. "Back home, my family had a farm. We had horses like this, to ride on the veldt; and to be honest with you, my demon friend, I loved that life. 'Course, it's gone now. All of it. Our ways weren't...acceptable to the outside world. They wouldn't let us alone. They wanted to change us. To fit their morality."

Cyrus turned and looked at the young priest, a gun in his hand. The red-robed demon noted absently that it wasn't wearing the same type of helmet that the other cattle were. It was wearing a wide-brimmed cloth hat, one that flopped down on the side. The priest audibly gulped as Cyrus spoke in that strange guttural accent, and raised his weapon.

"And now, you and yours are about to experience the same damn thing..."

**The interior of the palace. The same time**

Silas ran through the corridor, alternating between blind rage and gut-wrenching panic. He was regretting the hesitation he had shown earlier, about killing all the cows. As the last 15 minutes had convinced him that whatever was going on, the Covenant was in real danger of losing their power.

He had been rounding up guards and priests to deal with these new cattle. Normally, it shouldn't have been a problem to stop the insurrection; the cows generally fled from any show of force by the demons that ruled Pylea.

A couple of guards making fiercesome faces, and the problem was solved.

But not this time.

These cattle actually seemed to welcome head-on confrontations with his forces. Even in hand-to-hand combat, they didn't shy away from the enemy. If anything, they reveled in it. During the only confrontation that Silas hadn't immediately fled from, other groups of cattle had arrived on the scene, as if summoned. Silas didn't know how this was possible, having never even conceived the possibility of the existence of radios or walkie-talkies...

All that mattered was that when he'd seen the tide of battle was completely against his forces, the demon had fled. He hadn't even been able to get within a hundred yards of the main audience chamber.

Silas now knew what he had to do, and damn the economic costs. They could always get new slaves. Thus, he flung open the door to the chamber where the device was held. The demon was in such a hurry, that he failed to notice the lack of guards...

The high priest almost leapt forward, and slammed his fist on the button to explode all the collars in the kingdom. He even slammed it down a second time, for good measure.

"Did you really think that this wouldn't be the first place we would come to?"

Silas turned around in shock. Standing less than ten feet from him was one of the new cattle, with some sort of smelly stick in his mouth. {No...what?}

Red smiled evilly at the chief priest, as he removed the cigar. "I mean, between the little fireworks display we put on earlier with the EMP, the Furies casting a magical dampening field and our quick visit..."

Byrne held up some wires that Silas knew had come from within the machine. "Did you *really* think we would even chance you playing pop goes the weasel, with all the nice folks around here?"

**The woods within the local mountains. January 31, 2001**

Xander, Fred and Groo sprinted through the treeline, their pursuers clearly audible in the not-so-far-off distance. "Come on..." Xander urged Fred. Groo was easily running, it was Fred and him who were the ones that were breathing hard.

The soldier inside of Xander's mind growled, {Sub-optimal action. This situation can't be maintained much longer. A place to rest and regroup is needed. } "We need to lose these guys!" Harris just hissed at Groo, though.

"I agree, my friend. However - that is easier said than done, given the number of searchers that we are dealing with. I believe that most of the palace guard is here looking for us."

"The palace guard?" Fred managed to actually sound impressed, as she asked that question.

"Yeah, I forget to settle my tab there before we checked out," Xander joked lamely.

Fred smiled at Xander's joke. "Checked out. Hotels. Gosh, it's been a while since I thought of one of those," she shyly joked back.

Groo stopped and waited a second, for Fred and Xander to catch their breaths. "I have an idea," he said somewhat hesitantly.

"You've got the floor, big guy," Xander quipped, cursing his body's injuries.

"It is most important right now, that they do not recapture you. You must escape them." Xander nodded at that, he really couldn't disagree with anything Groo was saying. But this didn't last for long.

"I, on the other hand, am expendable..."

Xander instantly knew what was coming. "No."

"Allow me to finish," Groo said placatingly.

"No. You know how I feel about abandoning my friends. I am *not* abandoning you," Xander said with conviction.

Groo shook his head. "You would not be abandoning me. I would be drawing them off, and I have no intention of getting captured. I know what would happen, in that circumstance."

Xander stubbornly stood his ground. "NO, I won't do it!"

Groo looked straight at Xander. "Do you know what will happen to her, if they catch us?" He nodded at Fred. "We two, they have reason to keep alive - for now. You for your information. Myself to be made an example of, and killed later. Her, on the other hand...well. It has been some time, since someone swung the crebbil at a public execution..." Groo's voice trailed off.

Xander turned and looked at Fred; she was trying to hide her fear, but he could easily see it. Harris then took a good look at her, for the first time. The girl was dirty, even more so than the other slaves he had seen so far. {She looks like she's been in the field for months on end} the soldier persona observed.

"I can take care of myself," Fred managed to declare, even though it was in a skittish tone of voice.

At that moment, the long-buried White Knight in Xander surfaced. {He's right. In this case, the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many.} "All right. I'll draw them off-" he started to say.

Groo gripped Xander by the shoulder. "No, my friend, you are still hurt too badly. They will have a harder time tracking me, and there is the fact that I can move much quicker than you. You get her to safety, and I will meet again with you both later."

Xander thought for a second. {Protect the pack} the Hyena whispered in the back of his mind. "Okay, so where do we connect back up?"

Groo looked around, to see if there were any landmarks they could use - when Fred spoke up.

"Old Smoky."

Both Xander and Groo looked at the Texan. She pointed upwards at a mountaintop in the distance, "Old Smoky. It has an awesome view of the countryside, and-and some of the caves have entrances there. It's a good four or five hour walk, just to get there from here."

Groo nodded. "That'll do quite well." He turned to Xander. "I will meet you there tomorrow, at mid-day. Wait here 15 minutes, while I draw them off." He grasped Xander firmly by the shoulder again. "Xander my friend, be well until we meet again tomorrow."

Xander did likewise. "You stay safe too Groo, and don't make me come save your tail...okay?"

Groo smiled and nodded at that. He then turned around, and ran back in the direction they had come from. Xander and Fred watched him go. "Wow, he's really not like what I pictured - at all. He's not as grrrr as they make him out to be. Not at all. No grrrr there," Fred babbled.

Xander looked at his new friend. "You've been here a while, haven't you?"

"You could say that. I think I was born here...no, not really, it just seems like that sometimes," Fred replied.

Harris just nodded. {You're a long way from Texas, lady. But don't worry, we'll get outta here - somehow.} "Okay, you're the guide Fred. Do you know where we can hide?" Xander asked.

Fred smiled. "I know of a place."

**The main audience chamber of the Imperial Palace. The same time**

Cleburne cleared the table of the parchments that, mere hours ago, had been the focus of Lord Silas' attention. Because now, they were just in his way.

The Marine replaced them with one of the maps that the Navy personnel had drawn up last night, from the aerial reconnaissance photographs the day before. He also laid several maps obtained from the priests next to them.

"All right, people, what do we know?" he asked the soldiers in front of him.

"We control the village and palace. We've got patrols on the outskirts, looking for any potential pockets of resistance. Right now, all organized resistance to our presence seems to be in disarray," a Marine Major in battle dress uniform said.

"What about the kid?" Cleburne growled. It was clear to everyone that this particular item of information was the first thing that the commanding officer had wanted.

"Oddly enough, Hall seems to have pulled a Houdini on the bad guys," Red said with a slight smirk. "Some local muckety-muck helped him to escape a few days ago. He's on the loose in the mountains somewhere, nearby here, where most of the demon troops are looking for him."

"What kind of shape is he in?"

"Well, they're trying to dodge the question, but I'm pretty sure they gave him a pretty bad working over. That demon working for the lawyers back home? He got real skittish when I brought *that* subject up. However, he says that the lieutenant promised him that he would kill all those lawyers back in LA somehow," Gunny said.

Cleburne chuckled at that. "Sounds like a plan to me. So the kid is in the middle of the bad guys' main force, huh? Looks like time for a stand-up fight, then." He turned to the Marine Major. "Did the landing force get the fire base and beachhead all set up?"

"Yes sir, the main battery is in position. They had almost no real opposition," was the reply.

"Good. Does the opposition know we're coming?" Joshua looked at the map.

"No," was the guttural reply. Cyrus leaned onto the table, ignoring the glare from Cleburne. "The messenger got to the stable to take the news to them, but he did not leave to take the message to its destination."

Cleburne cogitated for a second. "Gunny, here, take this map." He handed one of the maps the Navy had prepared. "And this one." That one was one of the ones taken from the priests.

Gunny took them from his commanding officer as Cleburne continued, "Take Cyrus, and talk to the prisoners. Find out exactly where the opforce is located. We'll start looking for the kid there. Major, contact the ship. Have the Harriers and helos do overflights of the area in question. Tell them I want to know where large concentrations of enemy troops are. Also, get the troops ready to move out again. We'll leave a garrison force here to keep watch, but the rest of us - we're going to go get the kid."

**The nearby forests, later in the day**

The Captain of the Guard felt confident of success, and future promotion. The trail of the escaped prisoners was easily followed now. They had picked up another person - he assumed it was another escaped slave - and it was slowing them down. It was now only a matter of time.

"Report!" he snapped at one of his underlings.

"The advance patrol hasn't been heard from for twenty minutes. We expect that by now they have the prisoners cornered," the underling replied quickly.

The sound of a galloping horse was heard approaching the group of officers. "That must be them now-" the younger demon started to say.

They all turned towards the source of the galloping. However, the demons were all surprised when out of the woods, a horse with the Groosalugg on it charged at them. Groo had a sword, and he used it to strike down three of the officers as he galloped past them.

As he galloped back into the woods, one of the other officers shouted out, "Follow him! Capture that traitor at all costs!"

The Captain of the Guard held up his hand. "Wait. Where is the other cow?" He thought for a second. "Clever, but not clever enough. He's diverting us from the escaped prisoner! You, take half the men and capture him. I will take the rest, and run the prisoner to ground..."

**LAPD station headquarters, Los Angeles, California. The same time**

Detective Kate Lockley was having a very bad feeling about all this.

The blonde woman had started out her day normally enough. Donuts, coffee, the stupid new forms to be filled out, the pointless anger management classes to be attended...

And of course, helping out Angel Investigations.

A group of demons (or so Cordelia Chase had told her) had gotten onto a train at Central Street Station, and naturally all the passengers had freaked. Someone had pulled the emergency cord after the train had departed into the subway, and her friendly neighborhood vampire had shown up to 'take care of the problem'.

Unfortunately, the LAPD had also shown up after someone had called 911 - and she'd had to use her authority to prevent them from charging into the fray, and probably getting themselves killed. And now, the newly-promoted police lieutenant named Harlan was grilling her for it.

"What happened to the perps?" the man demanded.

Kate shrugged. "Gone."

Harlan wasn't satisfied with that. "The call said it was a hostage situation."

Lockley shrugged again. "People panic, you know how it is..."

The lieutenant just demanded to know, "The suspects escaped?"

Kate prevaricated, "Well, we're still trying to get the full story, but it's a little unclear."

Harlan exploded, "Unclear? What the hell is that supposed to mean!?" Then he added, "And why did you tell the SWAT team to hold, when they wanted to go in?"

Kate knew that she couldn't say that Angel Investigations was handling it and so simply said, "It was my judgement call."

Harlan didn't accept that. "Judgement call, my ass! You violated procedure. *Again*. I'm sorry, Kate, but that's it..." He held out his arm. "Hand over the gun and the badge. You're officially on suspension."

"What?!" Kate couldn't believe it, even though deep down - ever since she'd learned what Angel was - the blonde had always suspected that this day would come, eventually. "No way! On what grounds?"

Harlan just said, "I'm not even gonna dignify that with an answer. Now you know the drill, the professional review board meets in three weeks. I suggest you use that time to dredge up whatever kind of defense you can - because with your record for the last 7 months? I'd say it don't look good for you. Not at all."

Kate just slapped her .38 and her ID into Harlan's hand, and stormed off to her car. Silently cursing the lieutenant's ancestors, with a lot of f-words; and glad that her father had never lived to see this.

**The local mountains, Pylea. An hour later**

Xander hurried along the trail, with Fred right behind him. "How much further to your little hideout?" he asked her.

"Just a few more minutes. It's just past the big rocks," she said. "It's well hidden, too. The first few times I left my cave, I actually lost track of where it was! Golly, took me forever to get to the point where I knew where I was going. Seems that way, anyway, but now it's second nature, like swimming or breathing," Fred babbled yet again.

Xander raised an eyebrow at her ramblings. "You wouldn't happen to have any relations in California named Rosenberg, would you?" the man had to ask.

"Huh? Heck no, y'all, I mean - there is someone in the family living in Los Angeles, at least I think - but no one named Rosenberg. And my mom and dad, they live in..." Fred started to add, but then trailed off. She just didn't seem able to remember, and hurried off with a strange expression on her face.

Harris just followed after the girl. As he did, he listened to the sounds of the guards in the distance. There was less noise than before, but those guards that he could hear were getting closer. {Guess Groo failed in his plan to distract 'em all.} Xander silently said a prayer for his fellow warrior. {I hope he got away alright.} "Fred, this cave - is it hidden well enough to avoid being found?"

"Well, well, I hope so," the Texan-born woman said nervously, as she ran past a boulder and moved aside some branches and foliage to reveal an opening. "The demons have never bothered me here so far..." She motioned for Xander to go into the opening, and thus Xander quickly did so.

Fred moved the cover back over the opening. "There, we should be safe now. Well, as long as they don't tear up every bush around here, or use some sorta spell, or try to hack us to pieces if they find us..."

Xander looked around the chamber, the walls were filled with scribbled mathematical equations. "Nice decorating job. You have someone come in and do it for you?" he asked.

A strange behavior seemed to sweep over the Texan woman, now that the outside world was no longer a constant presence. Forgetting about Groo and giggling insanely, Fred just said to her guest, "Are you real? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I'm not real. Well, *somebody* here isn't real and I suspect it's you. Because strange things happen here, and I talk to people who aren't real all the time..."

Then in a rather manic way, the woman half-dragged Xander over to the open fire within the chamber, and motioned for him to sit. "Occam's razor. You're tired if you're real, I'll bet, and need food. Sit here and I'll fix us something. I love tacos, y'know..."

Ms. Burkle started fiddling around with the crude pots she had near the fire. "You rest. I'll let you know when the food is ready. Hope you like tree bark enchiladas!"

Xander just shook his head at that, and lay down next to the fire. He was quite tired, as running for your life was hard work even on the best of days. The escaped prisoner then glanced over at a pile of what looked to be Fred's belongings. His eye spied something, which caused his arm to reach out to get it for a further look.

The limb returned with a California driver's license. Xander turned to his host, "Fred?"

"Yuh-huh?"

"Is this yours?"

Fred glanced at him, and then quickly sprang away from the fire. She grabbed a pair of glasses, and forgetting all about the meal started scribbling madly on the walls. "Okay. Okay. The Second Law of Thermodynamics - entropy increases, within any closed system. Therefore, chaos will inevitably result, which includes the onset of madness..." she babbled, apparently to herself.

Xander stared at her in confusion, and then glanced at the driver's license. And what he saw there...made his blood run cold.

Like Angel would have done a few months hence, he saw the expiration date 03-01-98 on the piece of paper. Xander also saw the name written down, whom the license belonged to.

Winifred Burkle.

The ID label crashed through Xander's consciousness. {Oh no, oh *crap*! Great googly-moogly, but what does a person have to *do* to be recognized these days for who they are? Fred, as in Fred Burkle. I must be going senile, not to have figured out who she was before now! This is the physicist that Willow told me about, that tried to hit on her that one time...the one that's supposed to join Angel's Avengers? And now, I may have just totally screwed all that up.}

"Winifred Burkle," Xander said, after a moment's hesitation. "Born in Texas, from the accent. Physics genius from Los Angeles, though-"

Fred quickly rushed over and grabbed the license. "I had a name. But that was just a dream..."

"No it's not," Xander said, standing up. "Fred, believe it or not? I've heard of you. I know who you are, if not how long you've been here. I mean, myself I've only been in Pylea since...well, I don't know what the date is right now, but I was taken prisoner in LA on January 20th, 2001 - and it can't have been more than a month, since then..."

Fred backed up, a look of horror on her face as she took off her glasses. "No, no, you're not real. This is not happening. It can't have been five years, it just can't! Nonononono...this is just a dream..."

Xander came forward, as the Texan backpedalled. "Fred, listen to me. This isn't a dream, and I'm real. My name is Xander Harris, okay? I'm really real, and there are a whole bunch of demons outside hunting for my ass as proof. I need you to accept that, alright?"

The human female just stared at her guest, shaking her head. "Stop it!"

But Xander wouldn't let it go. "It's not a dream, Fred, I swear to you. Heck, I can pinky-swear to it, if you want..."

That made Fred look up. "You would?"

"Yeah."

Suddenly, Ms. Burkle smiled shyly. "You mean...you're really real?" Then equally rapidly the smile melted into a frown, and she started to shake her head as the girl moved a few steps away from Xander. "No. No, I don't want you to be real."

The young man was finding it kinda hard to keep his patience, in the face of Fred's obstinate and hurtful remarks. { Of all the farms in all the dimensions in the entire damn universe, why did she have to show up at mine? } "How come?"

Fred turned back to face him. "Because! You're nice, and-and you saved me from that Drokken beast. Which means, bad things will happen to you here!" Twisting her fingers together, the woman added, "Bad things always happen here."

Xander said simply, "No - look, Fred? No more bad stuff's gonna happen. We're both gonna survive this. We're both eventually going to get back home-"

Fred denied it with a shake of her head. "Can't get back. There's no going back, I tried - I tried for years, but there's no way-"

Harris grabbed hold of her glasses, and settled them on her nose. As Fred stared at him in wonder, Xander told her, "Fred, listen to me. I know exactly what you're going through, because I've been there myself. I'm just like you, ya know? I spent 4 1/2 years as a slave in a hell dimension, one that makes Pylea look like a vacation resort in comparison! If I could get through it, so can you. And hell, after I escaped, I had complete amnesia; couldn't even remember who I really was..."

Xander paused for a moment, then went on. "You've handled it better than I did; you at least still remember everything. But the point is, escape *is* possible. And don't forget - we've got Groo out there on our side, remember? Look, I'm gonna figure out a way to open up a portal or something, to get us back home. Because believe it or not, you've got quite a destiny to fulfill..."

For the first time since Xander had met her, Fred Burkle was absolutely speechless; and then, something akin to hero worship was born in her eyes.

**Nearby, a short while later**

The Captain of the Guard stamped his foot in frustration. {So close, so close. Yet I can't finish it.} He knew that the cow was close by. They had tracked him to this part of the woods, then the trail had just...disappeared.

The head guard knew that the cow had not left the woods. His troops had this part of them surrounded and nothing, not even small woodland animals, could get out of the net they had cast.

He looked around at the guards who were awaiting his orders. "All right, the cow used an underground tunnel to get out of the palace when it escaped. It might have done the same thing again here..." He looked around at the forest. "There's probably a tunnel hidden around here somewhere, that the other cow knows of."

The one thing they had managed to learn was that there was definitely another cow accompanying the escapee. Some of the local guides had said that there were rumors of an escaped slave, hiding in these mountains. Before, it hadn't been considered important enough to warrant the attention of the palace guards.

But now, that had definitely changed. The Captain turned to his men, "Tear these woods apart to find them. I don't care if you have to tear up every bush, or blade of grass. Find that tunnel they're hiding in!" he barked out.

The demon guards hurried off to carry out his orders.

**Halfway to Old Smoky. Three hours later**

Groo easily dodged the sword swung by one of the demons, as the mortal combat took place. The bodies of several of the guards' former compatriots lay on the ground near the site of their battle.

Groo had stumbled across this scouting party about an hour ago, shortly after the horse he had stolen from the nearby farm had died of exhaustion. Since then, he had been playing a cat and mouse game with them. The former champion of the realm could have escaped them easily, but he wanted them to know where he was. That way, they would be fixated on him instead of looking for Xander and Fred.

Every few minutes, he would attack and take out one or two of the guards. Ten minutes ago, Groo had decided he wasn't getting enough attention; so he had decided to attack the main body of this little group of hunters. For then, they would surely call for reinforcements.

Groo had seen that the plan was working, when a couple of guards had immediately galloped off once the fighting had begun. Several more of the demons had arrived, about five minutes ago. Groo inwardly wished that more would arrive soon, as he was quickly finishing off the opponents currently present.

The demon attacking him right now drew back his sword, to try and attack Groo again. But the tall warrior reached out, and grabbed the front of the demon's tunic. A quick yank knocked his opponent off-guard, and the demon fell forward.

Straight onto the sword that Groo had been using in the fight. The demon screamed once, before expiring.

"Face me if you dare, traitor."

Groo said nothing, he just turned to face this latest challenge. Near him stood another demon warrior; this one with green skin, red horns and eyes, and leather armor. The warrior held a broadsword in his hands, and assumed a combat position.

"Know that I am Landokmar of the Deathwok clan. I have slain many enemies of my clan and my family, and unlike you I have never done anything to dishonor my people. All that has ever been asked of me, I have done. I am the true champion here," Landok hissed, advancing on Groo.

"I have heard of you, Landokmar of the Deathwok clan, and know that you have nothing but honorable intentions. That is why I offer you one chance to leave," Groo said with a hint of regret. "If you challenge me, all that you will accomplish is for your family to mourn your pointless death, a few minutes from now."

Landok just snorted at Groo. "False Groosalugg, you are indeed nothing but a traitor. Something to be despised by the children of the kingdom, and used as an example of the dangers of cow blood! I will never run away from you..."

"I anticipated as much." And without another word, the fight was on.

**The Sunnydale mall, Sunnydale, California. The same time**

Dawn Summers was walking around and chatting with her friend Lisa, when she spied the enemy.

Which was not a demon - or at least, not the normal variety of demon that the Key was used to dealing with, ever since she'd found out her sister was the vampire Slayer.

This particular demonic enemy was named Kirsty, and she was a fellow schoolgirl at Sunnydale Junior High.

{What a prima bee-yotch} Dawn thought in disgust, as she forced herself to smile and wave at the popular girl - as Kirsty and her sheep had already seen them, and it was too late to run. {I swear, she's *got* to be related to Cordelia Chase.}

As they moved on, Lisa jabbed her in the ribs. "There, that wasn't so hard - was it?"

"Don't ask," Dawn scowled, as they continued their little after-school shopping trip. "God - I just wish I could make her head explode with the power of my thoughts, ya know? She's so superficial. Everything's always about clothes, or who likes who, and...well, there's just way more to life than that..."

Lisa smiled. "You hate her, just 'cause she was putting the moves on Kevin today..."

"I do not!" Dawn spluttered.

But Lisa could tell that was a lie. "I don't think ya need to worry, Dawn. I heard from Tim, who heard from Jodie, who heard it from Kevin's best friend? That she was all 'bow down before me, I'm so special', and Kevin was all 'whatever'."

The brunette girl's face lit up, inadvertently reminded of the past parallels between Xander and Cordelia - before and after they'd broken up. "Really?" Before Dawn caught herself and added, "Not that I care, of course..."

Lisa giggled. "Riiiight. Let's go get a couple of mochas, Summers, I need a sugar rush real bad!"

Dawn checked her watch, and frowned. "I'd love to, but, uh, I gotta go meet my Mom..."

The other girl frowned. "So soon? No offense, Dawn, but your mother really is turning into Curfew Lady!"

The Key knew she couldn't say anything to her friend about the real reasons Joyce was so unwilling to let her youngest child out of her sight. And how she'd had to practically throw a tantrum, just to get some alone time with her friend - to hang out with a gal pal, like any normal teenager. {Boy, keeping secrets really sucks.}

Then Dawn froze.

Seeing someone she'd hoped never to see again, Ms. Summers quickly said her goodbyes to her friend and hurried off to find her mother, sticking to the crowds as much as possible.

The man called Orlando watched her emotionlessly, dressed in civilian clothes with a baseball cap on his head, as the teenager disappeared into the human masses of the mall.

The Knights of Byzantium were active in Sunnydale again.

**Pylea. The same time**

Groo and Landok were in the fight of their lives. Quite literally. {He is a worthy adversary} Groo thought fleetingly to himself, as he swung his sword at the member of the Deathwok clan.

Landok parried the blow, and pushed Groo back. {Die, traitor! } The human-looking guy stumbled, and was immediately set upon by Landok.

But Groo regained his balance and defended himself, as Landok managed to get in a glancing blow on Groo's side. The demon's sword came back with blood on it.

"See, Groosalugg? You are doomed to failure and defeat. Your own blood, cow's blood, betrays you," Landok nodded at the red blood on the sword's edge.

Groo didn't respond, at least verbally. Instead he let his sword do the talking, feinting and then smashing the butt of the weapon into Landok's face; and this time, the blood on the sword was green.

Landok cursed, and spat out his life's fluid. "Ahh, traitor, so you do have some life left in you..." He chuckled deeply, as he saw several demons appear nearby. "Good, we have witnesses who will attest to my victory. Many tales will be told of this day, I swear this to you!" The warrior leapt forward, as he swung at Groo.

Groo jumped back, causing Landok's sword to go through thin air instead of the man's stomach. He then briefly wiped the sweat from his forehead, as he stared at his adversary.

"Indeed - many tales will be told of today's events, throughout the ages yet to come. However, I suspect that you would not like hearing them. For they will be tales of honor, nobility and freedom. Things which I have learned the Covenant and its priests have no use for..." Groo lunged forward with the sword, straight towards Landok's belly.

Landok barely parried the blow. "Blasphemer, traitor!" He swung, almost recklessly, at Groo - a strike that was easily parried. "Groosalugg, you have betrayed everything you ever stood for. Why? You turned your back on those who took in such a monstrosity as yourself?"

The tall warrior replied simply, "They took me in, only to use me for their own designs. The clergy betrayed *me*, before I finally learned the truth-"

"You ungrateful wretch! Most right-thinking people would have run screaming, when they saw you. The cries of children must have echoed in your ears..." Landok tried to goad his opponent.

Groo managed to maintain his calm though, dodging the blows that Landok sent his way, as the tirade continued.

"Mother, what is that hideous beast? Mother, what kind of demon would mate with a cow? Mother, I think I've gone blind from looking at something so ugly..." Landok said in a sing-song voice. Each phrase accompanied by an attack on Groo.

Groo's concentration slipped a little bit after that last crack, and Landok managed to score another glancing blow off of the former champion of the priests of Pylea.

Landok took that as a sign that he was getting the upper hand, and he pressed the attack. "The Groosalugg. The brave and undefeated? That title will now be forever tainted as also belonging to the worst kind of monster, that betrays its betters. It will be spoken in curses throughout the centuries..."

The green demon stepped forward with his broadsword, and managed to stab Groo in his left arm. "How do you feel about that, Groosalugg?" he asked with spite in his voice.

Unfortunately for Landok, Groo was right-handed. And thus the champion fighter quickly shifted his body in such a way that the sword in his right arm lunged forward, under Landok's line of sight.

A sharp sting, and Landok felt the sword penetrate the belly under his armor. It then went straight through, coming out his back.

{NO! How?} Landok's eyes widened, and he grunted in pain. He looked at Groo's face, mortally wounded, as the victor yanked his sword out.

"I feel that I am indeed no longer the Groosalugg; my name is now Groo. I was so named by a noble warrior, that I am proud to call friend. Know also I bear you no ill will for your actions, and regret that I had to kill one such as you. Be assured that it is yet another thing that I will punish the priests for..."

Landok grunted one final time and slumped to the ground, dead. And thus destiny changed direction yet again, as somewhere upstairs Jasmine cursed nonstop over how Landok's cousin Lorne and the Fang Gang would now never meet the warrior in question, or even go to Pylea, and how her plans were going further south with every passing second.

Groo just looked at the demons that had been observers to the fight. "Who is next?"

**Fred's cave. An hour later**

"I've tried making tacos, but I've had lots of trouble finding all the ingredients. I had to use tree bark for the shell, y'know? For some reason, corn isn't really popular around here. I was kinda surprised; you'd think that an agrarian society like this one would utilize corn a lot more, but they don't! Maybe corn doesn't taste the same to demons, as it does to us. Or, or maybe, it's the demon version of broccoli? It might be something they have to force little demons to eat, because it's good for them. I can try to make the tacos with the tree bark, if you want..."

Xander suppressed a chuckle at Fred's rambling. She had been speechless earlier, but the Texan was now back to the weird chatty girl he had met earlier. She was talking a mile a minute, with the topics jumping around randomly.

At least, Xander assumed it was random; if there was a pattern, it was one he hadn't been able to figure out yet. {Not really in the mood for it either, I suppose.}

"This is fine," he said, motioning to the plate where his food was. Harris made a point of not thinking about what the food might be. "Any food is good, also - corn, probably not a smart idea right now. My stomach hasn't been at its best, these last few days," Xander joked.

Fred put her hand to her mouth. "Oh, graciousness, I forgot all about that. It isn't too spicy, is it? I can make something else," she said.

Xander shook his head. "No, it's fine. And I do need some food."

Fred hurried forward anyway, and started examining Xander. "Oh, you need these wounds looked at. Best to do it now, too, 'cause there really aren't any ERs around here to go to if you get infected. I've had to learn quite bit of first aid, while I've been here..."

Xander nodded. "You seem to be a real jack-of-all-trades, Fred..." He remembered Willow suggesting that Ms. Burkle had a genius-level IQ, and that the redhead had seemed to think that Fred was just as smart as she was. And Xander knew that was a pretty heady category to belong in.

Fred smiled at the compliment. "Uh, well, I've learned to adapt. After all, you can't just call the plumber here! And believe me, the past five years? I really wish I could have!" She laughed a little bit hysterically at that.

{Was I *that* messed up when I got back from Ken's hell dimension?} Xander thought to himself clinically. {Huh, probably. After all, I had blocked out my entire memory before then. I'd repressed everything.}

He sighed. "Well, sorry, but no real plumbing skills here. Carpentry? Now that's another matter entirely," Harris joked.

"Carpentry?" Fred perked up at that. "Oh, you could look at some stuff I've built while I've been here! I used to do some tinkering back on the farm, but I never really excelled at it. I took a few classes in high school, but I never really thought I would need it like I do now..."

Xander smiled a big smile at that. {Something I can help with, which doesn't involve future knowledge, spooky government black ops outfits or paranormal stuff? Why the hell not? } "Guess I can handle that. What kind of tools do you have?"

"Oh, I made a few and adapted some I found here. I managed to steal some from some farms nearby, that I..." She suddenly stiffened.

Xander tensed up also. "What is it?" he whispered.

Fred's eyes grew wide. "I think someone's coming," she replied.

Xander got up from where he had been sitting, as he glanced at the entrance and listened. His soldier reflexes tensed up all of sudden, {Hostiles! Incoming! NOW! }

As his inner soldier started yammering, three demon guards emerged from the other side of the fire, tearing the fake bushes away.

"Cows!" the leader of the three instantly shouted out.

"Oh, oh, I-I was right - bad things always happen here," Fred whispered, backing away.

"Damn," Xander cursed, as he grabbed his sword from the ground nearby. "Damn!" he cursed again, when he realized that he only saw one entrance.

The one the demon guards had just entered through.

"Looks like we're going to do this the hard way," Harris muttered, as he brought the sword up to meet the charging demons.

"Fred?" the man called out in between exchanging blows with the lead guard. One advantage of fighting in a cave, was that space was so cramped that only one guard could attack him at a time without getting in the way of the others.

"Fred!" Xander shouted again, attracting the attention of the escaped slave who was behind him.

"Yes?" she shouted back, as the brunette woman brandished the makeshift club she had grabbed.

"I'll hold them off, you run for safety. Like we planned..." Harris backhanded the lead guard, and knocked him back. But his place was quickly taken by another guard.

"No!" Fred declared.

"Fred..." Xander managed to get out, while he made sure he wasn't stabbed by the demon's sword.

"No, I am not leaving you!" Fred moved forward, and tried to swing the club to help Xander. Meanwhile the third guard ran back out the entrance to the cave, no doubt to get reinforcements.

"Fred, I really appreciate you wanting to stick around," Xander punched out, and knocked the attacker down. Only to have the first one regain his position, and continue the attack. "Really - I do, you can't imagine what it means to me, after what I've been through..."

Xander exchanged blows with his attacker, grunting when the guard kicked his leg hard in an attempt to distract him. The former slave staggered, barely being able to remain standing. "But, I want you to do something for me."

"What, Xander?" she asked. For Fred truly believed that she owed Xander quite a lot, after all - he had given her something incredibly valuable. Hope.

At that moment, a piece of the old Xander surfaced. After all, his ability to joke in the face of disaster and death had been his trademark in both versions of reality. And this trait would serve him well now, as he recalled the lines of a song he had once heard back home...

"Run away, run away, run away if you want to be free!" Harris sang out, sounding horribly off-key.

To his great surprise though, the two guards grabbed their ears and cried out in agony. Both of them dropped to their knees, grunting in pain. {What the-? }

Xander stole a look at Fred, who was staring at the sight in wide-eyed shock. "I don't sing that badly, do I?" he asked, only half-seriously.

Fred shook her head. "No, I-I actually liked your voice. I don't know why they would react that way..." She jumped back, as the two demons started to get back up.

Xander thought for a second. { It couldn't be, could it? } "Mary had a little lamb, a little lamb, little lamb! Mary had a little lamb, whose fleece was as white as snow..." he sang out loud.

And was rewarded by the two guards screaming and dropping again. "You have *got* to be kidding me!" Harris said in disbelief. "They can't handle people singing?!"

He then looked at the entranceway, as the 24-year-old reached back and grabbed Fred's hand. "Come on, maybe we can sing long enough to get away..."

But Fred pulled Xander in the opposite direction from the entrance, towards a stone wall. "Fred?" he asked in confusion.

She got to the wall, and pulled a vine down hard. A medium-sized rock rolled over on its side and slid to the right, revealing another tunnel.

"It's always a good idea to have a back door handy, just in case..." Fred said, as she led Xander into the tunnel.

**Nearby, thirty minutes later**

Cleburne looked out of the helicopter window. The Siberians had quickly figured out the general location of where the demon guards were operating. Having air supremacy over the battle site meant that the opposition really couldn't hide from the enemy humans.

Normally Cleburne would have called in an air strike, followed by an artillery bombardment, to deal with the enemy. However, the possibility of blue on blue damage was too great for that to be an option. After all, they were still unsure of the exact location of Xander Harris.

And since he was the point of this whole exercise, it would be very of the pointless to kill him with napalm, right before the guy was to be rescued.

So this had to be done the old-fashioned way. "This is Mongoose, status of the hostiles?" he said into his headset.

"Two large groupings of hostiles in sight, Oracle. The smaller in is ten klicks from map reference A-14. They seem to be engaged in combat with unknown opposing force. Larger group is seven klicks south from there. Activity is picking up, they seem to be..." The voice of the pilot in the observer helicopter trailed off for a second. "Some of the hostiles are going underground, in fact most of them are! The rest seem to be spreading out. Covering the immediate area, in a standard net formation."

Cleburne pondered the pilot's words for a second. He wanted to pick right. "Okay, which one would be the kid?" he muttered to himself.

A half-smile then spread over Cleburne's face. If he knew Xander, and he was pretty sure that he did, Joshua knew which group to deal with first. "All units, prepare to deploy..."

**Nearby, the same time**

Groo dispatched the latest foe to face him. The demon guards had continued attacking him, after Landok had been dispatched; not that he had been expecting anything different.

Somewhat wounded, he shifted his weight and prepared to face the next attacker. But suddenly, Groo heard a great roar overhead. He looked up, and saw several strange birds flying above him. They headed off in a southward direction from him.

**Ten kilometers south. A short while later**

Xander tried to catch his breath. He and Fred had been running nonstop, ever since they had fled from the demons in Fred's cave.

{One thing you can say about these guys} Harris thought to himself, {is that they're persistent. Not to mention thorough. } Every time Xander thought he could stop for a second, another couple of demons would appear and start chasing them.

Of course, the fact that their pursuers couldn't stand singing, enabled the two humans to fend each set of attackers off with a song.

Xander inwardly grimaced at that. {Maybe I should look into voice lessons when I get back home? Lord knows my throat is sore enough right now.} He and Fred had been taking turns singing various tunes. They had started doing so, because to be honest - there were only so many times Harris could stand to hear the song 'Yellow Rose of Texas'.

Of course, the demons had figured out pretty quickly that the strange sounds coming from the escaped slaves was what was causing them pain. They were in the process of experimenting to find out how close they could get, without being hurt by the singing.

Xander right now wasn't *really* in a hurry to find out that piece of information. Because when he found out, would be the same time that the demons found out. He wasn't exactly sure what they would do then, but he knew it wouldn't be of the good.

The man looked around the forest; he and Fred had exited the tunnels earlier. Xander had internally debated with himself whether or not to go topside, but he knew that the two escapees needed room to maneuver. Getting boxed in one of the passageways could have doomed both him and his new friend.

By himself, Xander might have considered fighting it out in the tunnels, given that they most likely still wanted him alive - but he had no illusions about what would happen if the demons caught Fred. So it was outside, to try to escape and evade.

Of course, there was a trade-off to this; the enemy could bring their superior numbers to bear. Which was the problem Xander was facing right now.

"How far to Old Smoky?" he asked his travelling companion.

"Three hours walk to the north. However, I kinda think we hafta lose our pursuers before we head for there. As powerful as the Groosalugg is-"

"Groo," Xander corrected Fred.

Fred nodded and continued, "Groo is, I don't think he can take on all the guards following us. We need to find help."

"Groo mentioned something about rebels around here. Maybe they could help?"

Fred winced. "I thought they were just dreams. That's why I've been avoiding them all this time."

Xander heard running feet in the distance. "Come on, no time like the present to meet the neighbors. Do you know where they are?" He grabbed Fred's hand, and started running to the north.

"Yes," she panted back. "There's a camp, back the way we came."

Xander mentally cursed. "Is nothing easy around here?" he asked, as they came to a break in the trees.

"I think it's just gotten worse," Fred said. Xander followed her gaze, and saw that several dozen demons were to their north, waiting for them.

What worried Xander most, was what they were carrying.

Crossbows.

Weapons with which to strike from a distance.

"Momma Demon clearly didn't raise any fools around here either," Xander hissed, looking around like a rat trapped in a maze. "Uh, any ideas?"

Fred pulled Xander's hand in a new direction. "Come on. I know of a cave near here, we can hide there. I've not completely explored it yet, but I know there's a way out through it..."

Xander followed Fred's lead for several minutes, until they got to a cave entrance. The demon guards were following them in the distance. The two of them then hurried inside quickly.

{Tactical error} the soldier persona yammered in Xander's mind. {No guarantee of escape route. Chances of capture and imprisonment unacceptably high! }

Xander looked around, as they went into the cave's entrance. "Fred, you said there was definitely a way out through here?"

"Yes, come on!"

Xander followed her deeper into the cave system. He quickly noted that Fred seemed completely at home in these dark tunnels; the man then freely admitted to himself that he would have gotten completely lost, if not for Fred guiding him. Harris just hoped that the demons ended up the same way...

He could hear the sounds of their pursuers echoing through the caves. The acoustics of the cave were such that he couldn't accurately gauge the distances involved, so Xander just hoped that they weren't as close as they sounded.

"This way, there's an exit up ahead around..." Fred came up short, as she turned the corner she was about to refer to. She stopped as there were a dozen demon guards entering through the exit she referred to.

"Shit!" Xander cried out, as he saw why Fred had stopped. "Come on!" He shouted and led Fred the way back. They hurried back through the caves, stopping suddenly when faced with another group of pursuers, led by the Captain of the Guard.

They were armed with crossbows, and two of the guards shot off bolts. One missed, but the other found its target in Xander's left shoulder.

"Imbecile!" the Captain spat out, as he killed that particular minion with a knife thrust. "You might have killed it, and we need the cursed animal alive!" He looked at the other offending demon, and then the rest of the guards. "Get them!"

The fleeing duo headed back the way they had came. The chase lasted a few more minutes, but finally ended when Fred and Xander found themselves at a dead end.

Some distance up the tunnels, the demons stopped. "Cow, I warn you not to try any tricks with that foul sorcery you have somehow learned. If you try to make that disgusting sound again, we will kill the female cow at once!" the Captain shouted.

Xander looked over at Fred, even as she was tending to Xander's newest wound. She looked up at him, "I'd rather die than be captured by them-"

Xander smiled at that. "Don't worry, you're not dying here today. After all - I'll need a date for this wedding I've got to attend in a few years," he said jokingly, remembering Lorne's reading of his singing.

"Who's getting married?" Fred asked, cocking her head in confusion. {A date? Golly, he likes me *that* way? But we just met.}

"I have no idea," Xander replied with a shrug. "You know, Fred, it occurs to me that if I was wearing a mask and calling myself the Lone Ranger? Right now I'd have to say something along the lines of, 'Well, Tonto...'"

"What do you means us, white man?" Fred giggled softly in response, sounding sane for once. "But the Lone Ranger always gets out of the tight spots he ends up in..."

"Yeah, guess so." Xander shifted and shouted down the tunnel at their pursuers, "Hey, can you demon bastards hear me? I just wanna say come on over, and we'll have ourselves a good old-fashioned sing-along. Hope you'll like the Beatles!"

"Damned cow!" was the shouted reply. "Surrender now, or we will torture your companion to death for your insolence!"

Xander rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Why the hell should I trust you? Come any closer, and I'll sing out several dozen reasons why I shouldn't!"

Xander could make out the sounds of movement, lots of movement. More than he'd expected from the number of guards he saw. He patted Fred on her shoulder, "Get ready, here they come..." She nodded and grabbed a rock to use as a weapon.

Suddenly they heard several booms, the volume of which was increased by the acoustics of the cave. Both Xander and Fred recognized them for what they were; gunshots.

{Ricochets} the soldier persona warned. {Incoming!} Xander jumped over and forced Fred to the ground, covering her with his body. His wounded shoulder shooting pain throughout his entire body from that action.

The gunshots continued, accompanied by screams. After about a minute, the shooting stopped and silence reigned in the cave, except for the ringing in Xander's ears.

He slowly got up. It didn't look like any bullets had come their way. Harris looked down the tunnel, and saw a sight that didn't completely surprise him.

Several Marines, led by Colonel Joshua Cleburne USMC, heading down the corridor towards him.

"So what kept you?" Xander said to Cleburne, brushing himself off. { Not that I'm unhappy that you're here, of course! In fact, right now - you're really a sight for sore eyes, Cleburne... }

"Traffic was murder, and had a bear of a time making the connection to the proper off-ramp," the male secret agent replied rolling his eyes, as he walked up to Xander. Behind him, Fred was getting to her feet.

"Great, blame it on rush hour..." Xander got out, before he felt his knees give way on him.

The last thing he heard before sinking into unconsciousness was Cleburne yelling, "Corpsman! Man down!"

TBC...


	7. Chapter 31

**Part Thirty-one**

**Pylea. January 31, 2001**

Xander groaned, as he slowly woke up. His head throbbed, and various other parts of his body ached. The man could feel his shoulder where the arrow had struck, and it was still damned painful.

As he climbed further into the world of the awake, other things were noticed by his senses. His hearing told him that wherever he was - it wasn't in a cave, it sounded wrong. Also, his wounded shoulder was bandaged up. Xander had enough experience to know a professional job when he felt one, it was one of the few perks of growing up in Sunnydale.

His nose smelled an antiseptic atmosphere. More importantly, Harris realized he was laying in a bed with a mattress, something he suspected wasn't too common in Pylea. He slowly opened his eyes.

"You're awake! You're awake..."

Xander turned his head and saw Fred sitting near him, squealing with delight. She was dressed in what appeared to be sailor's dungarees. The woman then stood up from her chair, and covered the few feet between it and the bed where Xander was laying in an instant.

"You really had us all worried! The doctors said that you had been roughed up quite a bit. They were also worried about infection. I can understand that, I mean all that time we were in the caves - I really didn't have a chance to really clean out your wound. They told me that it would be all right, but I wasn't sure if they were just humoring me or maybe I was dreaming the whole thing..." she babbled on, hovering over Xander.

Xander raised his hand to interrupt Fred. "Them?" He had a pretty good idea of who 'they' were, but he wanted to be sure.

The woman clapped her hands. "Right, they'll want to know you're awake!" She hurried from Xander's bedside.

Harris then got a good look at his locale. He was in a grey room that just screamed out military institution. He then noticed that he was in a large area that had been subdivided with portable curtains.

"So, you enjoy your trip?"

Xander looked up with a huge grin on his face. "Oz, great to see you! And I really mean that, man."

Daniel Osbourne quickly covered the distance from the curtain where he had been standing over to Xander's bed. Once, there he gripped Xander's hand in a firm handshake. Behind Oz, Xander could see that Fred was hovering.

Oz saw what had drawn Fred's attention. He said to his best bud, "I see you made a new friend?"

"What can I say, I found her all alone - and I just knew she would get a blast out of meeting you guys," Xander's comment brought a smile to Fred's face. "I hope you and her are getting along? Fred's good people."

Oz smiled in that semi-invisible way which Xander remembered from high school. "Well, she wouldn't leave your side. From what they tell me, only reason they got her onto the helicopter was that they were also putting *you* in it."

"Yeah?" Xander asked in surprise, as Fred blushed.

"Yeah. And she would only accept medical treatment here, in the same sickbay you were in."

"Indeed. Our female companion was most insistent as to confirming your well-being," Groo said, he entered the area where Xander was.

"Groo, you're here too!" Xander grasped Groo's hand in greeting.

"Yes, Xander Harris. Your friends that have arrived from your kingdom managed to find me, and with some convincing - managed to get me to come here," Groo stepped back, and motioned with his hand to the room they were in.

Actually, it had taken *quite* a bit of convincing. Groo had never before seen anything like the helicopters the Marines had used to arrive at the place of battle. At first, he had thought that maybe they were armored demons, summoned by the priests to fight him. It had been a tense few moments...

But the human the others had called Red had then approached him, and said that they were friends of Xander. Groo hadn't believed it at first; he had thought it was just another lie from the members of the Covenant. But Byrne had continued, saying that the female 'Fred' had told them that he had helped Xander escape, and that he was on the side of the good guys now.

So Groo had finally accepted the truth of what he was being told, and agreed to go with the newcomers. He had shortly thereafter found himself on this ship, larger than any kind of boat he had ever seen in his life before.

Oddly enough, he'd felt pride when the half-breed had realized that this vessel had been created by humans...and not the demons that controlled Pylea. Well, *used to* control Pylea. He had spent the last few hours with these people on their incredible ship; and Groo was now learning things he had never even imagined possible, a few short days before.

"Speaking of that, where is here?" Xander asked a moment later.

"The Wasp," Oz answered succinctly.

The man cocked his eyebrows. "Looks like it's one big insect..." Xander joked.

"No, it's the USS Wasp. Cleburne arranged for it to be our transport," Oz replied.

"Ah. So, Mother Hen nearby?" Xander asked.

Oz shook his head. "No, he's back onshore at that palace you were tortured in."

Xander winced a little bit at that. {Can't I have any memories that are pleasant?} He shook his head, forcing that particular thought away. "Who else is here?"

"Well, Gunny of course. Red as well, they're both onshore with Mother Hen. The Furies are somewhere aboard, too."

"The Furies, they actually left Los Angeles?"

"Yeah, Cleburne moved 'em from their apartment, because he thought that Wolfram & Hart would go after them. Once that was taken care of, turns out they could get all of us here to Pylea. Takes more than just a simple spell to get a ship from one world to another, you see. They'll be happy to see you," Oz said in one huge-ass speech, which found Xander amazed to hear it.

"I know I am."

Xander looked up at the sound of that female voice, and saw that Rachael Weitz had just entered the little partition they had set up for him. "Rachael. Long time, no see..." Harris quipped.

She didn't say anything, the Israeli woman just moved to Xander's bedside and hugged him tight. She subsequently leaned back with a big smile on her face, and then frowned at him. "Okay, Hall, a few ground rules for the future..."

"Hall?" Fred spoke up, not happy about this new intrusion - but showing no sign of it, in her confusion. "Hall? Who's Hall?"

"Sorry, Fred, forgot to tell you. I officially go by the name of Alexander Hall these days, it's a government conspiracy thing," Xander explained.

Winifred was suddenly reminded of her 17-year-old self's beliefs as Rachael continued, "First, no going off into the lion's den like that again, or I'll rip out your short and curlies! Second, no trying to get yourself killed - or I'll personally save the bad guys the trouble! Because let me tell you, what I helped you do - it really looks bad on the progress reports back home! My superiors didn't like it. And they don't like me much either, right now."

Xander chuckled at that. "Anything else?"

Rachael leaned back, and looked at him with an amused expression. "Yes, don't go anywhere without me ever again."

"Excuse me, I really hate to interrupt, I mean interrupting in someone else's conversation is just something I was taught not to do. I mean, I hate to do it. I hope you don't get upset, Xander, I mean, you've done so much that..." Fred started to ramble.

Xander held up his hand. "Fred, Groo, this is Rachael and Oz. They're friends of mine from back home. Rachael, Oz, this is Fred and Groo, they're friends that I made here."

Oz nodded. "Already introduced myself to them. But Rachael's been-"

"Yeah, yeah, I was dealing with the Furies. They were drained from casting the spell to get here, and the spell to make sure the demons didn't kill their human slaves. They've been resting, building up their strength to return us back home," Rachael explained.

"Why you?" Xander asked. "'Cause last time you and them were in the same room, it wasn't exactly a pleasant conversation."

"I know, and I was shocked when they asked for me. Turns out though, they needed to tell me something," Rachael smiled enigmatically.

"What was the big secret?" Xander prompted the Israeli secret agent.

"Uh...it's a secret," she said. And Rachael's smile wavered for a second after saying that.

Xander raised an eyebrow at hearing this, and filed it away for future reference. "Okay, here's a question for you all. I've been wondering, why didn't my plan in LA work like it was supposed to?"

"Mother Hen was in Rome, he didn't read your email until it was too late. And those lawyers had a few tricks up their sleeves to block the rescue attempt from the Siberians," Oz stated.

"Damn..." Xander muttered under his breath. {Every plan has its own potential for errors} the soldier whispered in Xander's mind. {Learn from the experience, and move on.} "Okay boys and girls, from now on when I come up with a plan that you think is stupid? Remind me of this little adventure."

"I'll try to remember that," Oz said in his usual nonchalant way.

Xander sighed. "What else happened back home? Did they get Faith's soul?"

Oz and Rachael exchanged a glance. "No. Although Cleburne said something about finding out where it was, when he left for shore," the werewolf said.

**The Imperial Palace. Later that day**

The demon called Eli looked up, as the door to his cell was opened.

The Marines had locked up the accountant in less luxurious accommodations than the demon priests had offered. As the Marines had seemed to know that he had participated in the torture of Xander Harris. Of course, Eli had no way of knowing that Groo had told much to the rescue force about certain events before their arrival...

However, he knew enough to be worried about his visitors.

Cleburne and Cyrus walked into the cell. And neither one looked the least bit sympathetic to Eli's plight.

"You're with Wolfram & Hart?" Cleburne asked.

Eli shook his head. "Hey, mister, let's get something straight right now; I just work there! I don't approve of what they do. I was sent here with a job to carry out, and I did it on account of I was afraid for my life! I mean - they would've killed me if I hadn't done what upper management said," Eli whined, hoping to try and talk his way out of the spot he was in.

"So to avoid being killed, you did what they wanted?" Cleburne observed.

"That's right," Eli quickly agreed.

"A theory you'll probably want to keep in my mind, for the next part of this conversation," Cyrus said in his guttural voice.

Eli actually gulped at that. Cyrus stepped forward, and the demon instantly drew back from him. However, it was Cleburne who spoke next.

"All your protests aside, we know you're more involved with your employer's activities than you're letting on. But right now - you need to decide just how much discomfort and problems you're willing to experience on their behalf, before we decide what to do with you."

Eli decided to bluster. "Hey, don't I get to call a lawyer? After all, I've got rights-"

"You're a demon in an active combat zone, aiding forces in opposition to the United States of America. At *best*, you're subject to U.S. military jurisdiction. So I'd imagine you could appeal your treatment so far to the commanding authority on scene," Cleburne commented.

"Which I believe is you." Cyrus noted.

"Absolutely right. So, do you want to complain about your treatment so far?" Cleburne asked. "'Course, if you don't like our methods of dealing with you, we can always turn you over to the local authorities."

Eli was now confused. "Local authorities? I thought you guys did a number on the priests...but now you're telling me they're still in power?"

"Who said anything about those demon asswipes?" Cleburne asked. "We're helping the local humans here set up a government, and we'll be leaving them plenty of guns and ammo. So, bottom line, they're the ones in charge around here now."

"You'd turn me over to them?" Eli was now scared, as he had no illusions about what the former slaves would do to any demons they got their hands on. "But you can't do that! I'm an American-"

"Technically, I suppose, even though the Supreme Court might not share that opinion," Cleburne replied. "However, your criminal actions took place here in Pylea - and I'm willing to waive jurisdiction. Now, if there was some reason to believe that you might have done something criminal back home, well - the jurisdiction would be back there," the Marine colonel shrugged.

Eli looked at his two captors. He could read between the lines, and knew he held some value to them. However, the demon knew it wasn't a great amount. Eli figured if he was turned over to the former slaves, they might very well torture any information required out of him. The only thing lost by his captors would be the time it took for him to crack.

Eli was not a physically brave person, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it. He avoided confrontation if he could, whenever it happened in his presence. Both when Xander had first attempted to escape and then when he had actually escaped, Eli had fled from the dungeon as fast as his legs would carry him.

If he cooperated, he might get killed in the future - whereas if he shut up and held out for his bosses, he might get killed right now.

So, really, there wasn't exactly a choice available to this particular demon accountant.

"What exactly do you want to know?" 

Cleburne folded his arms, and glared at the demon. "Where's the soul that your bosses used for leverage against the kid?"

**Great Russell Street, London, England. The next day**

"This is outrageous!" Quentin Travers thundered in the Watchers HQ. "We need to respond vigorously-"

"But Travers, we're not sure that the people who you think are responsible, actually did this. Our experts can't even confirm how it was done, let alone who did it," one of the members of the Council seated at the table said.

"Who do *you* think did it? Who else could have done it..." Travers was actually pacing at the head of the table. "Who else could have stolen that much money, through bits and pieces of electronic chatter?" Travers, like most of the higher echelons of the Watchers Council, was not exactly completely at home with modern technology.

Which was how they had gotten into this particular mess.

"Trouble, Quentin?"

Travers looked at the doorway, where Roger Wyndham-Pryce had just entered the room. "You're retired as of yesterday, what are you doing here?" the head Watcher snapped.

"I thought you might need my assistance," the other man observed, as he made his way into the room and walked alongside the table where the members of the Council sat.

"Well, odd as it may seem, we have no need of pithy comments right now," Travers responded.

Wesley's father ignored the senior Watcher's snide observation. "I've just heard an incredible rumor. Can it possibly be true?"

Travers glared at his former associate as Wyndham-Pryce continued, "I see that it is. But for heaven's sake - I mean, over a billion pounds. The mind has trouble wrapping itself around that large a number! After all, everyone expects small amounts of cash to go missing; a couple of hundred here and there, but a billion?" He stopped and looked thoughtful. "I would imagine the Christmas bonuses this year, will not be what they were in the past."

"Now see here..." Travers started.

And was promptly ignored by the intruder in the Council's meeting-room. "I mean, if over 1 1/2 billion pounds go missing from our bank accounts? That's something that *must* be dealt with..."

"Worried about your pension?" Travers asked with sarcasm.

"Hardly. But I'm told that according to the latest exchange rate, the amount of money missing comes to exactly one billion U.S. dollars. Do you suppose that means something?" He turned and looked at Travers. "I'd say that your personal vendettas seem to be coming back to haunt us, old chap. Couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?"

"I fail to see where this concerns a retired Watcher like yourself. This is a matter for those of us who haven't given up the fight yet," Travers semi-snarled.

"You haven't given up the fight, granted, however the question is - which fight have you actually taken up? The good one, or the self-serving one?"

Travers looked harshly at the questioner. "How dare you ask that question! My dedication to the cause is beyond reproach-"

"However, your judgement is certainly open to debate at this time," Wyndham-Pryce declared.

"How dare you..." Travers started to say again, almost beginning to steam.

However, Wyndham-Pryce chose to ignore Travers' outburst. "Over the last couple of years, you have undertaken actions that at best can be described as cold and calculating. Ms. Summers' Cruciamentum-"

"That is hallowed tradition, as you well know," Travers shot back.

"Indeed it is, as was sodomy and rum in the Royal Navy once. However - times change," Wyndham-Pryce continued on. "Your actions concerning young Mr. Harris, though, can not be defended on any grounds of tradition. They are something that are without precedent in our annals."

"My actions were necessary for the greater good."

A shrug. "Perhaps. I will admit that the initial attempt to obtain Harris did make some sense, at the time. But if anything, the Americans seemed more disturbed about the treatment the man received, than the actual act of kidnapping. However, you failed to take this as a lesson well-learned - and proceeded to continue efforts that would alienate us from powerful forces."

"I hardly think we need to worry about the colonial government," Travers snidely observed. "They are babes in the wood, compared to us!"

"Possibly so. Still, they are babes with nuclear weapons, one of the world's largest economies and they are - as our friends across the channel have often commented - a hyperpower."

Roger idly looked at the grain of the table before he continued. "They also seem rather adept at forging alliances..." He turned and looked at Travers. "The Catholic Church is one of the few human organizations nearly as old as we are. And recently, you cavalierly endangered - no, almost completely destroyed - our relationship with them."

"Monsignor Bentallo was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time," Travers explained, but even to his ears it sounded somewhat defensive.

"Quentin? According to the witness testimony - from our own people, no less, as well as others - you were prepared to kill one of the leaders of the Special Office of the Vatican. One who was a personal representative of the Pope himself. How could you *not* have known that the Catholic Church would respond...unfavorably...to your actions? And my God man, can they really be blamed for their reaction?"

Around the table, several of the members shifted uncomfortable in their seats. Within the Council, the collapse of the relationship with the Holy See had caused concern. For the Catholic Church had resources that rivaled those of the Watchers, in some areas.

"Mr. Harris can't be allowed to roam free. We need access to his knowledge, and I am willing to do whatever it takes to secure it," Travers declared passionately.

"No doubt. And yet - it is my understanding that the colonials are sharing what they've learned from him, with those they are working together with?" Wyndham-Pryce observed. "For which, the Holy See has supposedly opened the vaults of prophecies they possess to these...Siberians," the old man said, as he searched for the right word.

He then turned to those sitting around the table. "These particular Americans seem to be inclined towards sharing some - if not most - of what they know. The Catholic Church has come to an agreeable arrangement with them. As have the Germans, Japanese, Israelis, Italians - even the Mormon church! All of them have come to some kind of arrangement with these people. Even Her Majesty's government seems to be cooperating with them, on some level-"

"Those individuals within the government are disobeying orders from their superiors!" Travers snapped. "Those in the know within official channels, they know to not challenge us-"

Pryce tried not to sigh. "However, that *is* what seems to be happening. The middle levels of government, the career civil servants, are the ones working with the Americans. The people who are professing loyalty to us are the ones with the least connection to true power, changeable after each election."

"Indeed. So what would you have us do?" Travers snidely asked.

Roger stroked his beard. "Well, Quentin, I wouldn't go around killing people left and right. That *does* have the potential for getting our own people dead."

Travers turned beet-red. "You know-?! Well, so be it. But know also they've interfered with our sacred duty once too often! *We* are the ones chosen to protect the world from the forces of darkness-"

"And yet, we're about to make war on others - who are now also fighting these very same forces?" Wyndham-Pryce said, with the disdain evident in his voice. He looked around at the other Council members, "Oh, don't look so shocked - *of course* I learned about the plans Quentin had! But what would the purpose of all that be? Even if we were to escape harm to ourselves, we would have weakened those who could conceivably aid us in a time of crisis-"

Travers snorted at that. "I doubt that any of them could aid *us*."

"For heaven's sake, Travers! The Catholic Church in the past has been of great assistance to the Council. In the 1920s and 1930s, were not elements of the U.S. government also helpful? Have you become so blinded by your irrationality, to forget facts and history?"

"You're the one who's become blinded, Pryce. You're blinded by fear; and worried about your own weakness, your own squeamish nature. You're afraid to do what must be done!" Quentin almost shouted at his former colleague.

Roger just shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I think you're the one blinded by...well, terror might not be too strong a word, Travers. Terror of Mr. Harris, and his little prophecies of doom last year. You're afraid of losing control, of not being the one in charge-"

"Because we're the only ones able to handle the dangerous things in the night. Only the Council can deal with what *truly* threatens mankind," Travers retorted.

"This is getting ridiculous, by God! Do you not understand, Quentin, that by our own actions we would become the ones who *threaten* mankind?" Wyndham-Pryce now was looking intently at the opponent he faced across the Watchers' table.

"So what would you have me do? Let Harris remain free, so that others on the side of evil can exploit his knowledge? To let those amateurs blunder around, and cause Lord knows what damage?" Travers snapped.

He knew he needed to reestablish control quickly, as Quentin could see the other members of the Watchers Council were getting uncomfortable and had questioning looks on some of their faces. "In any case, I think we can do without any more commentary from a retiree such as yourself. You can leave now!" He dismissed Roger Wyndham-Pryce with a wave of his hand.

"It seems I must inform you that that's not quite true, you see - I rescinded my retirement plans yesterday, given how I learned of your plans to wage a war against up to a dozen foreign intelligence services! And as such, I'm still a full-time member of the organization. As for what we should do, well - it appears to me that we should take the Americans up on their sharing nature," Wyndham-Pryce said calmly.

Travers looked dumbfounded at the suggestion. "What!? You think we should make common cause with the bloody colonials? That we should actually stoop to such a level?! Are you insane?"

"No, but I must admit that if I were to ask your fine self that same question, the answer would differ from the one I just gave you," Roger said with a hint of contempt.

"How dare you-"

But for Wesley's father, that was the final straw. "No. How dare *you* endanger everything the Council has built over the millennia, just because of this personal obsession of yours! I can think of no greater indication of your unfitness for your position."

Travers took a step back, as if physically struck. He sputtered for a second. "You, you have no basis for making that declaration-"

"I think putting us on a course that is quite plainly suicidal is *more* than sufficient grounds! You need to step down, Quentin, lest of a vote of no confidence be taken against you. Now," Wyndham-Pryce said with finality.

But Travers could no more do that willingly, than he could sprout wings and fly. "I am the head of the Council. I have the votes necessary to maintain my position if you wish to play that game, and our Watchers in the field are loyal to me," the Watcher declared.

"Those few that are left, anyway..." one of the Council members mumbled under his breath.

Indeed, the number of resignations had been rather high after the confrontation with the Siberians in Washington, and the organization was nowhere near peak efficiency - what with the recent Academy graduates that had been rushed into positions they were far too green to hold...

"I think you overstate your position, old man. After all, these are the same people gathered here who you were willing to risk being blown up last year..." Wyndham-Pryce said cuttingly, referring to the incident at the Cotswold Hills when STW had threatened to blow up the Council headquarters.

Travers was now starting to sweat. "They were bluffing. They never intended to do any such thing!"

"Really. Have you told the Council members here today about the two American fighter-bombers that deviated from their flight path during that afternoon, and headed on a direct course for this building? I'm told that the air traffic controllers at Heathrow barely had time to react before they changed course, no doubt because Mr. Harris and his associates stumbled into and then escaped your little trap for them," Wyndham-Pryce declared, noticing the reactions around the table.

"Was ist los, Travers? Is what he is saying true? You kept this from us?" one of the elder Watchers asked in a German accent.

"I told you, they wouldn't have carried through on the threat. You were never in any danger," Travers hastily explained.

"That's easy for you to say, from your vantagepoint in the Cotswolds!" another elderly Council member, this one a woman, spoke up. "It begs the question though, what *else* haven't you shared with us?"

Around the table, the other members of the Council were starting to mutter angrily. And thus, Travers could feel his control of the situation slipping even further away. So he decided to try a rather desperate ploy.

"Roger," Travers said in what he thought was a soothing tone. "I know these past few years have been hard on you. They've been hard on all of us. I can understand why you would take rash actions and make questionable statements..."

Wyndham-Pryce almost snorted. "That's your solution, hint that I'm unbalanced? Really, Quentin, you're starting to slip if that's the best you can come up with-"

Travers continued on, "You really need to lay down, refresh yourself and have a chance to collect your wits." He went to the door of the chamber. "Let me get someone to help you..."

"Travers, the only thing that befits you worse than your arrogant manner is your friendly one. At least the first is sincere, distasteful though it is. But when you try to act like we're a couple of old school chums, you quite turn my stomach!"

Travers ignored that, quickly opening the door and looking out.

After a few seconds, Wyndham-Pryce spoke up. "Having some trouble finding someone to do your bidding?"

Travers turned around with the faintest look of concern on his face. "No matter. They must have been called away. I can summon them back." He walked over to a side table and picked up a telephone. He looked concerned again, and jiggled the phone a few times. "That's odd-"

"Quentin, listen carefully. I knew that you would, when threatened, rely on your wet works teams. In the past, I've witnessed how you've treated them almost as a Praetorian Guard; using them to intimidate opponents of yours on the Council. After all, they have a habit of knowing all sorts of nasty secrets..."

Roger walked towards Travers and continued talking, "So some friends and I asked ourselves, what could we do to ensure a fair hearing? After all, it's not as if we could get your field ops to play by the clean rules..."

Travers was now staring at Wyndham-Pryce so hard that it was a surprise that he didn't spontaneously combust. "What have you done?"

"Created a level playing field, nothing more than was needed. One you couldn't manipulate to your advantage." He turned to the Council members. "Ladies and gentlemen of the Council. In view of the events mentioned today, I move that Quentin Travers be removed as head of the organization."

"Second," the German Watcher immediately said.

"All in favor?" Roger Wyndham-Pryce called the vote.

"This is outrageous, this - this is an illegal coup d'etat! You have no right to even suggest it," Travers sputtered, as almost everyone at the table raised their hands.

"All opposed?" Roger ignored him.

Only one or two hands were raised. With a nod, Roger Wyndham-Pryce turned and faced Quentin again. "Mr. Travers, according to the vote you are removed from office-"

"I am no such thing. A invalid motion brought by an unbalanced individual is hardly grounds to remove me!" Travers snarled back, almost completely unhinged now by all these rapid and unthinkable developments.

Developments he had never even imagined coming, focusing so much on Harris as he had. "And as soon as my men arrive, they'll remove *you* to what you so richly deserve!"

"An interesting choice of words, Quentin," Roger looked behind Travers. "I see you left the door open-?"

Travers turned around, and saw several policemen entering the chambers. "What is the meaning of this? This is private property! You have no right to be here-"

"I believe that these gentlemen need to discuss with you some events that occurred during the March of 2000," Roger commented. "Something to do with attempted kidnapping in the United States, or some such thing-"

Travers, protesting furiously, was escorted from the Council chambers. Wyndham-Pryce turned his attention back to the members of the Watchers Council.

"Well, it seems we have much to do..."

"Point of order," the elderly lady of the Council spoke up. "It seems to me that we first have a vacancy in the ranks to fill, having just removed the previous head of the Council from office. I nominate Roger Wyndham-Pryce for the job."

"Second," the elderly German Watcher said again.

"All in favor?" the woman asked. When every hand save Roger's went up, she said with a soft smile, "By unanimous vote, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce is now our nominated leader. And let the record show that Quentin Travers...abstained from the motion."

Roger tried not to let his lips quirk up. {Bloody hell. Head of the Council, and at my age! Well, if this doesn't clear up the family name, I don't know what will.} "Very well. I thank you all for the support, and accept the nomination as leader of the Watchers Council. And as my first official act, I intend to try to repair the damage done by my predecessor to our relationships with the various organizations mentioned previously. Are there any objections to this plan?"

No one spoke, or raised their hands.

"Let's get on with it, then. This thing with Xander Harris - it's caused enough trouble to the Council, and its personnel."

**Pylea. Later that day**

Red led the patrol through the back streets of the village. Just because the demons had been routed didn't mean that there weren't stragglers who needed rounding up. The Siberians and Marines had been turning them up in bits and pieces over the past few days, as the survivors of the one-sided battle in the woods had come straggling back into the village.

Their imagined refuge was a false one, though, as the village was full of the soldiers from Earth. And more dangerously for the demons - newly-freed slaves.

Who were not very gentle in their treatment of their former masters.

Red had actually had to save a few of the demon soldiers, from enraged groups of former rebel humans. It was sad but true that murder was not limited to any one race or species, but a character trait common to almost every sentient being.

And besides, Byrne had never really been a fan of lynch mobs...

Of course, knowing what Cleburne had in mind for Pylea, he suspected that more than a few of the demons would have preferred that sort of quick death - to the disintegration of society as they knew it. The provisional government of the humans would most probably not be well disposed towards the demons.

{You've got races that hate one another, and bad feelings based on *centuries* of enslavement} the Navy commander thought with a mental shrug. {Not my area of expertise of course, but if we're not careful - within one generation around here, there's going to be one *bloody* civil war...well, maybe the shrinks from back home can come up with some sort of compromise?}

Suddenly, the radio on Red's flak vest squawked to life. "This is Explorer. Repeat, this is Explorer. Come in, Marines. Come in, Marines..."

Red raised an eyebrow, as he clicked on his mike. "This is Batman." Red almost rolled his eyes at the codename he had been assigned for this patrol. "Please identify."

"Batman, we're your relief. Sorry it took us a day or two longer than expected to get here, but you know how it is..."

**The USS Wasp, the ocean off of the Pylean coast. February 2, 2001**

Xander looked out at the ocean, from the deck of the amphibious assault ship; which was *not* an aircraft carrier, as he had been told by the crewmembers he had encountered. His recovery was coming along nicely, and the doctors had let him out of the sickbay for a quick walk today.

He enjoyed the view; for salt water is the same everywhere, and for a moment Harris could almost pretend that he was a teenager once more, living in the promised land of southern California.

And that Faith was alive and well, sharing her body and soul with him - practically every night...

Or he could pretend to be on the beach with Anya during that lazy weekend, shortly after they had announced their engagement. The one he'd enjoyed so much, from the first go-around in his life.

Or even the picnic that he, Buffy and Willow had had during the spring of their first year of college...

Xander quickly pushed those thoughts out of his mind. He still harbored quite bad memories of Buffy and Willow from that night outside the Bronze, and he really didn't want to think of them.

Or of Cordelia...

Now that he'd had some time to process it all, and was no longer a fugitive constantly looking over his shoulder, Xander could afford to speculate about those four dream encounters he'd had - after Vakma had hit him with those drugs. With Anya, Willow and Buffy there were no troubling or nagging feelings concerning the meets, but with Ms. Chase...

That was not the case.

That particular conversation had hit him harder than any of the others, for a variety of reasons. The most important one being that someone had targeted Cordelia to die since high school, and now Gwen Raiden might be in the line of fire instead - because of him. But there was also the possibility, based on that kiss, that Cordy might still have...feelings for him...

{And let's not forget Dawn's not-so-little crush, either. Oh yeah, my love life isn't complicated at all! }

Xander just closed his eyes, and wandered through his memories of Faith and Anya. For a moment he just let his mind roam aimlessly, and think of a world where Faith wasn't dead and Anya wasn't a vengeance demon...

"Enjoying your walk, kid?"

Xander opened his eyes, and saw that Cleburne had joined him. A little bit off in the distance, he could see that Fred was nearby - watching him intently. She was spending almost all her time with Xander...

And Rachael Weitz was definitely not pleased about that. Xander may not have been the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to womanly things, but even he knew that the two of them had been staring daggers at each other the past two days.

"Nice to get out of the sickbay, anyway. Took some convincing, but the doctors *finally* allowed it," Harris replied succinctly.

"I'd ask if you wanted to go ashore, but I'm pretty sure you've already had your fill of Pylea," Cleburne observed.

"Yeah. I think the Pylean Chamber of Commerce would find me a pretty tough sell at this point," Xander quipped back.

That got a chuckle from Cleburne. "I forgot about the chamber of commerce, that's something else they'll probably come up with before too long. Things are changing here..." Cleburne took a deep breath, and stood silently next to Xander. "I take it you know she's watching you?"

"Yeah, Fred came with me when I left the sickbay. I think she's afraid that if she gets too far away from me, that all this will turn out to be just a dream." Xander looked at Fred out of the corner of his eye. "She's got a lot of issues to deal with, being here in this world and on the run for so long-"

"No, not Ms. Burkle; Rachael. She's up on the island, looking down on you. She's been keeping close tabs on you, ever since you came aboard."

Xander shifted his head slightly. He spotted Rachael on one of the overlooks, watching him and the Marine colonel. "Yeah, well, it's her job-"

"Kid, she took a lot of flak from her people over what happened. Believe me; they were *not* happy about Weitz's part in all this, at all. Everything she's done...well, she's gone above and beyond the requirements of a job for you."

Xander nodded. "Remind me to thank her properly when we get back to Washington, and if she's in too much trouble with her government...ah, hell, tell 'em I said this is my fault, not hers. And that she's earned my trust, because I asked a lot of her. A lot of all of them; Oz, Bentallo and her."

"Was it worth it?" Cleburne had to ask.

"If it had managed to get Faith's soul back to Heaven where it belongs, then hell yes! However, I didn't get to do that," Xander said sadly.

"Not to worry, kid, there's something cooking to take care of that part of it. I put Cyrus to work on the problem, and as I recall - he does like a challenge!"

"Cyrus...I haven't met that guy yet, but I've heard a bit about him from Oz and the others. So, where did you pick him up from while I was away?" Xander asked. He was a little worried about the new addition to his universe.

"Oh, bumped into him on the street in Rome. Don't worry though, he knows what he's doing. That guy was killing bumpy things in the night before you were born. He's good, trust me."

"Interesting choice of words there, Cleburne. On account of I don't know for sure if I can do that anymore. Tell me something, on a Marine's word of honor...did you know?" Xander asked with an edge to his voice.

Cleburne was silent for a few moments. He'd known this conversation was coming, and to be honest - he'd been dreading having to answer Xander's questions. "Look, kid-"

"DID YOU KNOW, DAMN IT?!"

Cleburne was momentarily startled by Xander's shout. "No. Believe it or not, the Committee kept the field personnel in the dark about what was going on."

Xander had calmed down after his outburst, noticing how Fred was now looking very jumpy. "Pretty much what I figured. You didn't lie to me, which is why I haven't grabbed Fred and tried to jump overboard yet - but it's pretty obvious now that I can't trust those people who give you orders..."

He smirked, "You, even though you're a complete SOB most of the time, you're a relatively straight-shooter. But I think the people you work for, they're so crooked they can shoot around corners," Xander finished up in a dead tone of voice. "And just for the record? I don't think I can ever go back to the way it was before, pal; trust is a funny thing. Your faceless government bureaucrats seem no better than the Watchers, right now."

Cleburne couldn't help noticing Xander refused to look him in the face while saying that, and glanced down in shame. "Yeah, well, I can't defend them or their actions; they had no right to do what they did. Kid...all I ask is that you give me a little time, before you do anything about it. I'm asking you as a Marine." Cleburne had a quality to his voice that said he really wanted Xander to agree.

Xander thought for a second. "I'll give you a little time. Not much, so you better move quick," he announced.

Cleburne nodded. "Understood. Everything should be wrapped up by the time you leave the hospital, anyway."

"Hospital?" Xander was now confused, as far as he knew the sickbay on the Wasp was the most advanced medical facility in Pylea. "Did a MASH unit arrive, or something?"

Cleburne shook his head. "No. We're headed back tomorrow; the Furies are rested enough to do the spell, and our relief has arrived. And when we get home, you're checking into a hospital till you're 100% again, no questions or debate on that one."

Xander shrugged, not pursuing the topic - for now. "Relief?" he just asked.

Cleburne was silently glad that Xander didn't pursue any questions about the hospital. As the Marine knew how unwelcome that some of the treatments which would be necessary for someone who had been a prisoner under the conditions that Xander had just endured, and to some extent was still enduring, would be.

"Yeah, the Green Beanies."

{Green Berets} the soldier persona instantly whispered in Xander's mind. "Special Forces unit got sent here? Why?"

"Well, we're not just upsetting the apple cart and then bugging out. We did that in Cambodia and Vietnam, and just look how those lovely vacation spots turned out! No - we have a duty to help the people here. That's why a couple of A-teams came through recently, using some spells they've been taught."

"By who?" Xander asked.

"Ethan Rayne, he really wanted to see some new faces! The Green Berets fit the bill. They're also ideal to train the locals; it's what they do. Live among them, and turn them into soldiers. They're also sending some civil affairs people through, to help the former slaves set up a new government. We're not abandoning these people, not if I can help it."

"Not if *you* can help it?" Xander suddenly asked. "The events of the past few weeks put your ability to control events in a questionable light, *Joshua*."

Cleburne actually felt his face reddening a little bit at that comment. He restrained his initial response and said, "Yeah, that's true. I wasn't in the loop for a lot of things. A *lot* of things," he repeated, making the point that Xander hadn't completely trusted him either.

"Real subtle. But put yourself in my place; why should I have kept you in the loop about all that?" Xander asked with a little edge. "We both know your first loyalty isn't to me. If it ever came down to the choice of between me and the country, who would you choose?"

"God, Corps, and Country," Cleburne replied automatically.

Xander raised an eyebrow at that. "I've heard that one before. The Marine spirit, semper fi and all that. But where do your people in STW fit into there? Where do *I* fit into there?"

"Corps."

"But I thought I was a U.S. Army Ranger? You said that I had to *earn* being called a Marine," Xander replied.

"That I did. But the funny thing is, with everything over the last two weeks - I think you *have* earned it," Cleburne said, handing some papers to Xander. "Alexander Hall was getting to be too recognizable anyway, in certain circles. Marine Lt. Alex Howard, on the other hand, is someone who won't raise too many red flags - at least for a while."

Xander took the papers and looked at them. They were indeed new identity papers for one Alexander Howard, a lieutenant in the United States Marine Corps. {Guess he's got a point, the name Hall *does* get around after nearly two years! And Xander Harris is officially dead, after all. } "Right. So do I get a secret decoder ring with this?" he asked with just a touch of humor.

Cleburne raised an eyebrow at that. "Sorry, the ring takes a little bit more work. Talk to me again after four years in Annapolis." The secret agent fiddled with the Naval Academy ring he sometimes wore. "For now, be happy with your time at Wizard University. I know it's not the academy, but hey - it's nothing at all to sneeze at."

Xander groaned. "Oh, great, I forgot all about that. Uh, Irving was expecting a term paper from me, on the role of population growth in causing the Crusades. Maybe he forgot about it, in all the excitement...?"

Cleburne shook his head. "No such luck, kid. Not to mention that he actually sent some homework along for you, for when you're well enough! And I'm thinking you're ready."

Xander groaned, and rolled his eyes. "I wonder if anyone else besides me is getting this sort of unwelcome news right about now..."

**Los Angeles, California. The same time**

Gunn and Cordelia walked down the hallway. And they could hear the various sounds one associated with the type of apartment building they were in.

"Here we go," Cordelia announced, as they arrived at their destination. Then she knocked on the door.

"You sure he's home? I mean, guy's not picked up the phone once, the whole time we've been calling," Gunn remarked.

"Oh, 'course he's home, that's his car parked out front! And where else is a recovering Tweed junkie like Wes going to be on a night like this?" Cordy replied in her best 'Queen C' tone.

She then leaned over and knocked louder this time. "Wes, open up, I know you're in there! There's a Masterpiece Theater marathon on PBS tonight, so it's pretty obvious you're sitting on the couch watching it!" the former cheerleader yelled out.

After about a half a minute, the door cautiously opened and Wesley peered out. "Ah, hello there..." he said.

"There you are! Where the hell have ya been, English? We've been calling for the last few hours, 'cause we got something that came up - down at the office," Gunn said, trying to be nonspecific enough to not rouse the suspicions of Wesley's neighbors.

All of a sudden - a noise that sounded suspiciously like a vase shattering near the doorway was heard, as Wes involuntarily ducked. Charles started to say, "What the fu-"

"Here we go. Something weird turns up, and off you go to God knows where! You're going to almost get yourself shot again, aren't you?!"

Both Cordy and Gunn winced as the voice of Virginia Bryce, Wesley's girlfriend, could be heard from within the apartment. And she did not sound happy.

Wesley turned his head to address the still-unseen wizard's daughter. "Virginia, I know what we've..."

But Virginia suddenly flung open the door, and she definitely had an unhappy look on her face. "What, you've decided that you don't mind getting yourself killed? Don't mind doing the stupid things that you always do?"

"Virginia..." Wesley started.

"Don't bother, we've talked about this enough all day. Wesley, let's face it; we're over, through, finished. Don't call me again; and ya know what? Go ahead and get yourself killed tonight, for all I care!"

She disappeared from the view of Cordy and Gunn for a few seconds, and then came storming back out into the hallway carrying her purse. "And *don't* expect me to show up at the funeral!" she shouted backwards, as she traversed the hallway.

"Harsh," Gunn simply said under his breath. "Women..."

Cordelia instantly jabbed him in the side with her elbow. "Wesley? You gonna be okay?"

The former Watcher just unleashed a huge sigh. "I suppose. Let me just get my coat, and then we can head off for the hotel..."

"After the way that bitch just tore into you?" Ms. Chase had to ask. "I know it's urgent, but..."

"It beats staring at four walls around here," Wesley shrugged, quickly disappearing into the apartment. "And thankfully, a spot of violence is just what I need right about now..."

**The USS Wasp. Later that night**

Xander made his way through the cafeteria on the ship. He was able to eat some solid foods now, and the doctors had gone over a whole list of things that he could and couldn't eat.

To be honest, though, he had mostly tuned them out during the talk; as the former Zeppo had been really intent on consuming a steak. However, Fred hadn't tuned them out at all - and since she was still shadowing Xander everywhere he went, well, he found himself eating only what the doctors had approved.

He spied Groo sitting at one of the tables, talking to some Marines. From what Xander had gathered, the human soldiers had been very impressed with how well Groo had done fighting the demons, before they had arrived. Oz had told him that Groo had actually started sparring with some of the military personnel, and already taught them a few new tricks.

Groo saw Xander coming. So he stood up with a genuine smile on his face. "Alexander Harris. Greetings to you," Apparently, Groo still hadn't gotten that whole secret identity thing down yet.

"Greetings, Groo," Harris grasped Groo's hand in a firm handshake. "Enjoying your time here?"

Groo nodded his head. "Yes, indeed. I am enjoying my time here on the Wasp very much. There are many fine warriors here, who I can relate to for the first time in my life. They tell me that later, they will be showing me something called "Rambo" and said I would appreciate it very much. What is this Rambo?" Groo asked Xander.

"Ah, someone that I think you'd automatically respect. A warrior who's the subject of great tales back home," Xander explained.

"Indeed? Then I look forward to learning more of this Rambo. If you speak highly of him, he is surely worthy of anyone's respect," Groo declared.

"Don't worry, pal, you'll have plenty of opportunities to learn more about the one called John Rambo when we get back home," Xander commented with a smile.

Groo looked concerned all of a sudden. And Xander noticed this. "What's wrong, Groo?"

"Xander, I have thought about this for the past few days, ever since your friends arrived from your kingdom. You are my most valued friend and fellow warrior. However, I have much to atone for here."

Harris suddenly had a deja vu moment. {Holy cow, Groo is beginning to sound just like Angel! If he starts brooding, I'm going to have to knock some sense into him when we get back home! } Xander pushed that thought down, though. He had to focus.

Groo continued, "I have done horrible things here. Many people suffered greatly, because of what I did."

Xander placed a hand on Groo's shoulder. "Groo, when you did all those things, you didn't have any way of knowing the real situation. You only knew what those priests had told you-"

Groo instantly shook his head. "No, that is no excuse; I *should* have known. I should have realized the truth, years ago. I was neither blind nor deaf; but I chose to not learn what was truly happening. I could have done something, and I should have done something-"

"You did, you helped me escape," Xander answered.

"No. Before that. All those deaths, before you arrived. I cannot simply forget all the humans I've murdered, by running away to your kingdom..." Groo took a deep breath before continuing. "I have to try to redeem myself, here. That's why I'm staying in Pylea."

"What?!" Xander exclaimed.

"This is where the ones I hurt lived, it is to them I must make restitution. I must not flee from the things I have done," Groo explained. "If I am to become the warrior I need to be, I must stay here and face the consequences of my actions."

"Groo...I can understand wanting to face your demons. But that won't bring back the dead, or erase the anger of the survivors! I *know*. And you can have a fresh start, back home. You can fight the good fight there, and really make a difference," Xander tried to get Groo to see his viewpoint.

"I know that I could, my friend, and I know I can make a difference. However, the first place I can make a difference is right here. This is the way it has to be."

Harris had a bad feeling about that, however. "Will the new human government tolerate your presence, though? Those former rebels might hold a grudge or two against you..."

"Yes, that was a concern. However, I have met with them. The rebels had heard of my turning against the Covenant; and apparently, they were not only very surprised by that, they were also favorably impressed," Groo said. "Also, your compatriots from your kingdom have spoken on my behalf. They too were impressed by my struggle against the palace guards, when they arrived."

"So..." Xander asked.

"I am under no illusions that the former slaves will accept me as the hero of the revolution; the families of my victims will never permit that. But for now, they need me. One day, I suspect, the humans will no longer require my sword arm in their service, and my welcome will be quickly worn out. But until then, I will do what I must to try to make amends."

"It'll be hard," Xander observed quietly.

"Yes, it will be very hard. However, redemption should not be easy. It involves struggle and sacrifice. And those two things should never come easily to anyone," Groo agreed and explained his rationale.

Xander thought for a second. "Groo..." Xander paused again. "This is something you're *sure* you have to do?"

Groo nodded his head. "Yes, it is."

"All right. To be honest, I still think you're making a mistake; but I can't force you to do anything that you don't want to. Look, Groo, we haven't known each other that long - but nonetheless, you're one of my most valued friends and a fellow warrior. That's why when the time comes for you to seek redemption elsewhere, I'm expecting to be the first person you come looking for. Okay?"

"You will indeed be that person, Alexander Harris."

Nearby, Fred watched Xander and Groo talking. She was still a little skittish about Groo, having heard legends and tales designed to frighten her for all these years that just couldn't be forgotten overnight.

But seeing how Xander acted around him, that made it easier for Fred to come to accept Groo. She half-smiled at the scene that she was seeing in front of her.

"So, now that we have that settled, what do we do with you?"

Fred turned around, and saw that the woman she knew as Rachael was standing behind her.

"Oh! I didn't hear you come up behind me. You snuck right up behind me, and that's unusual. Because I'm good at sensing things, I mean I've lived so long by my wits alone that I had to be, but you just popped up right there. Pop, there you are! You're good, you have to be good, 'cause I don't think I've slipped up that much these past few days..."

Rachael put her hand up to stop Fred's torrent of words. "No, you were distracted. And I can understand why," she said with a sympathetic smile.

"Well, well, I've been keeping track of a lot of things. My mind wanders sometimes," Fred replied.

"Oh, where to?" Rachael muttered under her breath.

"What?" Fred asked.

"I'm sorry, nothing," Rachael replied. "I imagine you're happy to be going home, huh?" she quickly changed the subject.

Fred got a concerned look on her face. "Home? I...I'm not sure that even exists. I think maybe here, this is home to me..."

Rachael silently swallowed, as her grandfather had often talked about helping the survivors of the Nazi camps. They had been damned difficult to help, those pitiful remaining few from Auschwitz, Dachau and all the other death camps; and the Israeli imagined that the young Texan woman had similar problems.

"No, look, it'll be okay. I'll admit that we don't know much yet about your past history before you ended up here in Pylea, but I know that home for you is back there in the States. And you'll slip right back to your old life in no time," Rachael comforted her.

"She's right," Xander approached the two of them, leaving Groo to continue his chat with the Marines. "You have family and people back there, to help you adjust back to life on Earth..." Harris left it unsaid though that the people who were supposed to help her, were in fact Angel and the Fang Gang.

"No, I have what I need here. And I'm staying!" Fred declared, a new note of stubbornness in her voice.

"Here? Uh, you do know this ship is going home, right?" Xander asked his new friend.

"Sure I know that, silly! I meant that I'm staying with you people. It's not as if I think I can stay on this ship for the rest of my life, I mean - talk about stir crazy!" Fred replied with a semi-insane grin.

Rachael thought for a second. "Ms. Burkle-"

"Fred," Xander corrected her.

"Fred," Rachael started again, after sending him an annoyed look. "I know you're confused. And I know you're scared, but believe me when I say it'll be better if-"

"No, I can't go back. I can't. I won't! Do you think I can go back to my old life on campus, knowing what I know now? Knowing that there are worlds and dimensions out there, beyond anyone's wildest imagination? Knowing that demons and vampires are real? Knowing that humanity is threatened?"

The physics genius paused for half a second, looking completely with it for once. "I mean, I-I figured all that out, from all the stuff I've heard around here. And I can't even imagine what *else* there must be out there! I, I can't turn my back on that. So I'm staying, and I'm helping!" Fred said, as she crossed her arm defiantly.

Xander was about to speak up to convince her otherwise, but then he caught himself. { I really can't argue with that, can I? I thought the exact same thing, before I went and became all Future Boy. I couldn't just go back to a so-called normal life, so how I can ask the same thing of Fred? }

"Fred, do you understand what you're saying? What you're *really* signing on for?" Harris eventually asked.

"Better than anyone else," she replied with finality.

"I'm really not sure that this is such a good idea-" Rachael started to say.

Xander ignored the Israeli secret agent. "All right, then. I'll talk to Mother Hen about it..." Xander then chuckled out loud at the sound of Cleburne's nickname. For it had been a while, since he had thought of that particular moniker.

"Hall, could I talk to you for a second?" Rachael said while trying to pull him away, hoping to talk Xander out of this; for both professional and personal reasons.

"That's not my name anymore," Xander resisted budging an inch.

"What?" the female spy asked in confusion.

"Permit me to introduce myself, ladies. The name's Alexander Howard, 2nd lieutenant, United States Marine Corps. And what's more, I have the identity papers to prove it! Xander Harris and Alexander Hall - for all practical purposes - no longer exist."

Fred just stared at her savior, while Rachael fumed. "Look, *Alexander*-"

"No, Weitz, *you* look. Because I know what I'm doing! Believe me, she needs to be involved in the fight. And I say this as someone who's seen her in action, and heard of her in the future," Xander insisted.

"Future?" Fred instantly asked.

"Oh, this is going to take *some* explaining," Xander sighed. "Fred, grab a seat and let me tell you a story..."

**The Pylean woods. The same time**

Barshon pushed his horse to gallop faster. His fleeing the palace when he did, had actually saved him. And as far as he knew, he was the only priest left alive and out of the custody of the invaders.

He had encountered some guards here and there, hiding from the humans. Barshon suppressed a flash of rage at that thought. To think that the forces of the Covenant, were now actually hiding from the thrice-damned cattle!

Those soldiers had pitifully looked to him for leadership, in their foolish quest to reclaim the kingdom...

But Barshon knew better. He had seen the battlefields where the guards had fought the invaders. He had even seen the body of a dragon one of the priests had summoned, to fight the strange craft that the invaders flew through the air in.

That very same dragon's body had still been smoldering, a day later...

The former second-in-command to Silas - who by the way, was awaiting formal execution - knew that to fight the invaders now was a guarantee at best of getting captured, or at worst being killed outright. Then again, maybe being killed right away was better, considering that the human slaves were eager to visit many forms of revenge on those who had enslaved them for generations...

But Barshon wasn't one for a foolish crusade. Right now, his objective was much more personal.

He didn't know how or even when it would come about yet, but he knew that Alexander Harris would pay for everything that had happened - both to him *and* Pylea. Barshon would see to that personally.

After all, the red-robed priest knew all about the ones that the damned cow cared for. He had heard the conversations - with Anya, Willow, Buffy, and Cordelia.

So those four were the perfect place to start...

TBC...


	8. Chapter 32

**Part Thirty-two**

**U.S. Navy submarine base, Kings Bay, Georgia. February 5, 2001**

Xander smelled the ocean air, as the USS Wasp made its way towards the terminal pier. He had never been on a docking ship before, so the experience was all new to him.

It had been two days since the Wasp had returned home. Xander and Fred had said their goodbyes to Groo on the flight deck of the vessel, a couple of hours before the Furies had opened another portal.

Groo had promised with sincerity that Xander would meet him again one day. Harris didn't know for sure - this was something his future knowledge couldn't help him with - but he sincerely hoped that he would see the Pylean warrior again, in the future. The last sight Xander had of Groo was of him waving from the helicopter, which was flying him back to the mainland.

Harris knew that the former champion was going to have a hard time of it, there was bound to be a lot of remaining resentment over his service with and for the priests of Pylea. However, Xander had been assured by the Major in charge of the Special Forces unit that was staying to train the humans, that he would keep an eye on Groo.

The new USMC lieutenant just hoped that would be enough.

As soon as the helicopter had returned, all the passengers and crew of the Wasp had gone below decks so as to be enclosed by metal. The Furies had then opened their portal, and the Wasp had gone through. And as soon as the Navy vessel was on the other side, the communications suite of the ship had come to life.

Xander didn't know the whole story, but he definitely got the impression that there was quite a bit of 'discussion' going on between the Siberians and the bureaucrats who gave them their marching orders. He had seen Cleburne exit the communications room a couple of times, in a very foul mood.

And then the next day Cleburne, Gunny, Cyrus and Oz had all departed the ship early, flown to the mainland by helicopter. Xander had asked Red and Rachael, who seemed to be responsible for him, what were the reasons for their sudden departure.

But very annoyingly, both had just smiled and assured him that he would know when the time was right.

In the meantime, the Wasp had been making full speed for the location they were at now. Xander had come up on deck, followed by Fred, a little while ago and was watching the huge ship being moored to the pier.

After a few moments, he felt the ship come to a complete stop. And a few moments after that, Harris turned and walked back into the innards of the ship. "Come on, Fred, now that we've stopped - I just know someone is going to come looking for me."

"Someone good, I hope," Fred said, as she followed behind Xander.

"Well. Knowing my luck, I'm not willing to put money on that," Xander replied with a scowl.

Fred mentally gulped at hearing this. Xander had told her his story, and she was somewhat amazed at how well he was handling everything. After all, he had been exiled from his home just like she had been. However, it had been worse for him - as Xander had to endure knowing he could get to his former home physically, but he couldn't actually do so if he wanted to survive.

Ms. Burkle was very astonished as well, by the *other* story Harris had told her. About the destiny that would have been hers, had she not decided to stay with him. The names swirled around chaotically in her head...

Angel.

Cordelia Chase.

Charles Gunn.

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce.

Gwen Raiden.

{What's going to happen?} Fred wondered, thinking about the demon hunters she'd learned about. Who were just names without faces now, ghosts of what would have been...

{How's it all going to turn out, since I won't be joining those people? There could be complete chaos, possibly. Hmm, one molecule out of place in the space-time continuum? Deadly consequences, yes, yes, maybe. But then life's a gamble.}

"Oh! We could head to Las Vegas and gamble there. I've never been, but I hear it's a great place to visit," Fred commented aloud, her mind wandering as usual as they entered the sickbay - which had been their home during the last few days.

"Never been there myself, either. Hmmm, that surprises me a little bit you know. After the last year being with STW, and with all the weirdness I've experienced, you'd think that Las Vegas would be a natural place for me to wind up in! Well, maybe I'll see if we can get over there for a week or so one day. There's bound to be some spooky things there what need dealing with."

Fred giggled crazily at Xander's suggestion. "Yeah, after all, a city that never sleeps? There's bound to be vampires and demons there! And once that's taken care of, there would be a chance for gambling. While we were back in those caves with the soldiers, I thought up a system of counting cards at blackjack..."

Xander looked at Fred with a whimsical expression. "Why, Fred, I think I'm corrupting you."

Fred shook her head. "No, a lot of graduate students do this to test various mathematical theorems they've come up with. It's a great way to pass the time!"

But she was prevented from saying more, by Red entering the room. "Hey, you two. Company's here. Come on, they're waiting for you."

Both Xander and Fred followed the Navy commander, as he led them to their destination. "Hey, uh, Red? Why did we dock here? I thought this ship was going to Norfolk..." Xander asked. Talking to the crew, he had learned that Norfolk was the home port for the Wasp.

"It is, after they drop us off. But Kings Bay is great for our purposes. The security here is tight enough that we're not worried about anyone slipping through and bothering you," Red replied.

"Tighter than Norfolk?"

"This is a nuclear missile submarine base. They take security very seriously, as no one wants a nuke walking off into the black market. We have enough problems in Europe with that sort of thing," Red explained.

Both Xander and Fred paled a little bit at that. "There are nuclear weapons here?" the woman asked.

"Yep, all those submarines with nuclear missiles come from here. Ah, here we go..." Red opened a door for the two of them, as Xander and Fred entered a conference room.

Inside it, Esther Marcum and Irving Hollins were awaiting them. Xander immediately felt himself getting angry, but he was able to control himself enough to maintain a civil face.

"Mr. Harris, I'm glad to see you back safe and well," the Wizard said. Next to him, Esther did have the good grace to look ashamed.

"Hey, Mr. Wizard. I just have to ask..." Xander started to say.

"The answer is no. I was kept out of the loop - so to speak - as to the situation involving Ms. LeHane's soul. If I had known, I would have told you instantly."

Xander nodded. He believed the child genius, because not only had Irving always dealt straight with him ever since that first meeting in Urbana - so long ago now - Harris knew that Hollins also found lying distasteful. He turned his focus to Marcum, as he expected a different answer from her.

"So, Mrs. Marcum, what about you?"

Esther sighed and paused for a few seconds. "I won't lie to you, Mr. Harris. Yes, I knew. I was present at the meeting where the decision was made, which went against my personal wishes by the way."

Xander maintained control over his emotions, and even gave her the benefit of the doubt. "The name's Alexander Howard now. And why?"

Esther paused again. She knew what Xander was really asking. "Because they were afraid and stupid. In this business, the bottom line is usually all that matters - and they were worried that you would just ride off to the rescue. They were worried you would get captured and subjected to unspeakable tortures, to get the information from you."

"Well, they were right about that!" Fred suddenly said.

Her statement caused the attention of Marcum and Hollins to turn towards her. "Who are you?" Esther asked.

Fred looked at Xander for reassurance, and he nodded to her. "I'm a friend of Xander's, we met back in Pylea. I'm Fred."

"Fred?" the Wizard said.

"Well, uh, that's what everyone calls me. It's short for Winifred Burkle," she explained.

Hollins' eyes actually widened at that. "*The* Winifred Burkle? I've been looking for you for a long time..."

Fred look a little shocked now herself. "For me? Why? I don't even know you!"

"Forgive my manners. I'm Dr. Irving Hollins," Hollins introduced himself.

"Whoa! Dr. Hollins, from the University of Chicago? Professor Oliver Seidel told me about you! Oh, I read your paper on the Einstein-Rosen Bridge. So you mean that we might be able to one day travel across the universe using a relativistic tunnel, bypassing the normal four-dimensional space-time continuum? I mean, the energy considerations alone for creating such wormholes..."

Xander tried not to roll his eyes, {God help us, but she really *is* like Willow! She just needs to babble at about 1 1/2 times the speed, dye her hair red - and if I were distracted, I'd never know the difference.}

But Hollins looked pleased at hearing the Texan's response. "You actually read that? And here I thought no one paid it any attention. It was one of the few papers I ever wrote that wasn't swept up under the classified label. So what did you think of it?"

Fred smiled. "You want my opinion? You can't be serious."

"Actually, I am. I read your term paper on quantum singularities and possible ways to affect them, after Oliver sent it to me. And I was *very* impressed! I wanted to discuss it with you, but that's when I discovered you were listed as missing. I then requested the FBI look into your disappearance, but to no avail," Hollins explained.

"You mean this is *her*? This is the woman you bugged me about to get the..." Esther paused for a second, unsure to how to continue.

"She already knows everything, including what's what about the organization," Xander declared.

"What!?" Esther almost shouted.

"I really don't think you can complain about secrecy at this point," Red wryly commented. Esther glared at him in response.

"He's right. She had a right to know, after everything she went through," Xander said. "I saw no reason to keep her in the dark, about anything that affects her. Because we've all seen where *that* leads to," he added with a Look that made Marcum shiver.

Esther didn't have a ready comeback to that. "Well, given that she knows everything now, we'll...just have to deal with it."

Xander shook his head. "No, *you'll* have to deal with it. After all, I really don't care about your problems at the moment! I swear, I'm halfway tempted to jump ship right now and go into hiding..."

"That would be inadvisable," Esther said edgily.

"For your bureaucratic ass, it sure would be! Listen up, Marcum, and listen good. I'm not sticking around for you. I promised Mother Hen that I'd give him a few days to try and make things right. And at least he only asked for the chance to set things straight, he didn't try to make pathetic excuses..."

Esther looked around. "Where is Cleburne? I thought he would be here..." She stared at Commander Mike Byrne, and then a look of realization came across her face. "What is he up to?! He didn't want me to know that he wouldn't be here...oh dear God, and he's already in enough trouble with the Committee as it is..."

Red remained silent. Xander looked at him, wondering what was happening.

Esther pulled out a cell phone, and dialed a number she had memorized. She then waited a few seconds, till she got an answer. "Where are you?" the middle-aged woman instantly demanded.

On the other end, Cleburne spoke up over the roar of machinery. "Just out for a drive, Esther. Like Dinah Shore used to sing, seeing the USA. 'Course, this isn't a Chevrolet..."

"Where?" Esther persisted.

"It's such a big country. So much to see and experience."

"You're dodging the question. And I hate it when you do that! Who's there with you?" Esther almost yelled into the phone.

"Quite a few people. Say, is Red there with you? Listen, tell him to go ahead and get the kid in the air. By the time he gets here, we should have everything sorted out."

Realization came to Esther. "You're in California. Los Angeles, to be precise. Aren't you?"

"You know, it's *very* nice having a bigger vehicle than everyone else. These SUVs are just getting right out of my way, and on a Monday morning at that..."

Esther swiftly felt herself becoming resigned to what was about to happen. "You're about to do something mind-numbingly violent, aren't you?"

"Yep. I'll call you after the gun smoke clears!" With that, Cleburne hung up.

**Spring Street, Los Angeles, California. The same time**

Cleburne put the cell phone back into one of his pockets. "Okay, people, time to make some bad guys miserable!"

With that - the M1A1 Abrams tank he was riding in, jumped off the curb from the street and started driving straight for the front entrance of Wolfram & Hart's LA law offices.

Immediately ahead of it, Charles Dalton sat at his workstation in Wolfram & Hart's lobby. He enjoyed working there. The pay was great, the benefits were beyond anything he could find elsewhere - and at least once a week, he got to slap around someone who angered the law firm.

So all in all, Charlie boy really enjoyed being a security guard for the demonic law firm.

At least, till he looked up from the desk in the lobby - to see what all the shouting was about.

"That's a tank..." Dalton stupidly said out loud, as he watched the armored behemoth lumber towards his position.

The guard fumbled for the phone, shaking as he did so. "Hello, hello, this is the main desk! I need help!" he shouted into the phone.

"We see it on the cameras, you'll need to hold on-" came the response.

"Hold on!? Hold on? There's a *tank* coming right at me!" Dalton looked out for a second. "No - there's two tanks, *two* tanks coming right at me! And I've got what, a pistol!?" Charles shouted, as he saw another armored vehicle appear behind the tank.

"Get ahold of yourself, man!"

"You have to be kidding me..." he whispered back, the panic clear in his voice.

"Help is on the way. Big-time help."

"Well, tell it to hurry!"

The guard threw down the phone and cowered behind his desk as the tank crashed through the doors to the lobby, followed a few seconds later by the Bradley APC that was its shadow.

The Abrams tank lumbered into the center of the lobby, coming to a stop with a frightening finality. The gun turret traversed around, to where the cannon was pointing at the bank of elevator doors. The few people who hadn't fled the lobby could hear a round being chambered into the cannon.

A second later, it shot out its ammo - and the elevators exploded accordingly.

Dalton felt his ears ringing, as he stumbled up. He saw the second vehicle had stopped, and was disgorging armed troops.

"Damn..." Charles thought he whispered that, since he could barely hear it, not realizing it was so muffled for him because of the ringing in his ears. Then he felt instinct kicking in. There were procedures at Wolfram & Hart for emergencies like this. Thus, his hand reached down and he stabbed a button on the security console.

In response the steel shutters dropped down, surprising Dalton a little bit that they were still working after the two tanks had driven through the front doors. The lobby was now sealed off from the outside world.

He then pulled his weapon and held it out in a firing position. "Stop right where you are!" Dalton said in a shaky voice.

"You've *got* to be kidding me. You do know mine is bigger than yours, right?"

Dalton looked up to where Cleburne had popped up out of the turret hatch on the tank. The guard also couldn't help but note that the turret was now moving towards him. "Trust me, pal, you'll lose this firefight..."

Charles could actually feel himself shaking. "I don't get paid enough for this shit..." The cannon of the tank had stopped its movement, and was now pointed straight at him.

"You mind telling me, how do we shut down the elevators? I don't think they're coming here what with everything we just did, but I do want to be sure," Cleburne asked, as he hopped down off of the tank.

Dalton just stared for a second. Suddenly Cleburne, who had been walking towards him, shouted out, "Down!"

Charles felt himself being tackled to the ground. Gunshots rang out, in a huge roar.

The guard actually thought he was going to cry, as the smell of gunpowder lay heavy in the air. He cautiously looked up and saw the emergency staircase entrance was full of the remains of several warrior demons; creatures that he knew were used by Security for emergencies. He then found himself being turned around to face Cleburne again.

"Understand this, I didn't save your ass out of the goodness of my heart. I did it because I want information out of you! How do I lock down all the elevators?"

Dalton looked around in fear. Whoever these people were, they clearly were not afraid of whatever Wolfram & Hart was going to throw at them. And they were clearly in control of the situation. He quickly weighed who he was more afraid of, his employers who weren't here right now - or these armed soldiers, who were.

So Charles quickly made a decision based on his present fears.

"The computer. There's a menu that allows you to do it, but it can be overridden from Security Central!" he shouted out, hoping to live long enough to escape.

"Not to worry, we brought someone to take care of that," Cleburne commented, as Oz came up beside him. "You heard him?"

"Yeah, this should do the trick." He inserted a CD into the computer drive. The computer made a few noises, and the screen went black for a few seconds. Then a blue screen popped up, and Oz started typing.

"I'm in. All the elevators are locked down, and being put under our control," the werewolf reported, briefly indulging in past memories of when Willow had done things like this, for the gang back home.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Cleburne reached over and answered it. "Front desk, good guys talking," he said.

"You do know that you're committing multiple felonies, and opening yourself up to major criminal prosecution?"

"Ah, this would be the famous Ms. Lilah Morgan that I've heard so much about?" he said into the phone, having taken out one of the earplugs he had been wearing.

"You currently have me at a disadvantage, although I'm sure we can get some positive ID from your bodies afterwards."

"Pretty confident - aren't you, lawyer lady?" Cleburne looked around and saw what he was looking for, the surveillance camera being used by Lilah Morgan to monitor events in the lobby.

"You should know that you're now sealed inside the building. The police won't be able to interfere, until we want them to. You're trapped in here with us," Lilah's smugness was clear in her voice.

"You don't get it, do you? We're not trapped in here with you. *You're* the ones trapped in here with us!" With that, Cleburne shot the offending camera. He then turned to Oz, "You ready?"

Daniel nodded. "Everything's set. It should take them days to clear up the mess I've just introduced to their computer network. Till then, we're clear."

Cleburne nodded. "Good. Gunny, Cyrus, Oz, Ivan. You're with me." He turned to Graham Miller, who was leading the soldiers from the Bradley APC. "Hold the fort here. Make sure they don't mess with the elevators. We'll take one of the ones that still work to a few floors below the objective; just make sure we get there intact!"

Graham nodded. "Understood, Colonel. We've got your back..."

**Four floors below Lilah Morgan's office. A few minutes later**

The elevator door opened, as the bell dinged. "Ground floor. Sporting goods, dinnerware, hardware and dead demons!" Cleburne said, as he cautiously exited the elevator. He then spoke into the microphone on his shoulder, "Okay, Graham. What do you see?"

"Several hostiles, about 20 yards north of your position. They look like they're heading to the staircase," Graham replied.

One of the advantages of having had more time to prepare this assault than the first one, was that the computer program they had been able to bring enabled them to view the building's surveillance system. And Cleburne, for one, was rather grateful for it.

"Good. Keep me informed, and let me know when Finn arrives. Give us one minute, then start messing with their internal communications." Cleburne motioned for the others to follow him.

"Okay, we now get to go and thump up on some bad guys. You all know the drill?" Cleburne asked.

Oz raised an eyebrow at Cleburne's wording. During times like this, Joshua's Southern roots had a habit of showing themselves. "You think she still has it here?"

Cleburne nodded. "Oh yeah, she wouldn't give up the power and negotiating tool she gets from having it in her immediate possession. We find the lawyer lady, and we find that orb. And I'll bet you my pension that she'll stay put in her office, until the last possible moment. She's most comfortable there, and lawyers are strictly creatures of habit..."

"Keep in mind, the lioness is most dangerous in her lair," Cyrus commented.

"Well...we'll just have to be more dangerous than her, now, won't we?" Cleburne said as he inched down the hallway, in the direction of the stairs. He took a hand grenade out the web harness he was wearing. He then looked at Oz, "You ready, Wolfie?"

Oz crinkled his forehead a little bit. "Yeah, although we'll have to work on that nickname later..." the musician took off his shirt, in preparation of becoming his animal self.

"Good. Let me throw the flashbang, give it a few seconds - then do your Wolfman Jack thing!"

**Lilah Morgan's office. Thirty seconds later**

"We can smell the humans at the end of the hallway. They must have stopped, because they don't know how to handle us!"

Lilah listened on the phone, as the vampire she had sent down to lead the guards dealing with the attackers reported in to her. "Then why are you just standing there? Hurry up and finish them off!" the attorney ordered. And she hoped that it would be that simple, but somehow she doubted this would be the case.

"I don't want to go rushing in. Be careful, that's my motto," the vampire snapped back.

"And here I was thinking it was 'lemme cash my paycheck as soon as I get paid'," Lilah sarcastically shot back.

"Hey, lady, I don't see you down here pulling your own tail out of the fire. If you're so hot to...what is that?"

Lilah could hear the soft metallic thud of something hitting the floor. And then, there was suddenly a loud bang. Lilah held the phone away from her ear, as the vampire and several of his compatriots cried out something about their eyes.

There was then heard an inhuman roar, followed by screams. And nothing but static came out of the phone, afterwards. "Hello. Hello! Damn it, what's going on?" Lilah shouted into the telephone.

"Having trouble keeping a lid on things, are you?" Lindsey MacDonald asked from the couch where he was sitting.

The male lawyer had reason to be amused. He had his sources, and had learned that Eli was now uncontactable in Pylea. Thus, he had more than suspected that the shit was about to hit the fan with regard to Xander Harris; but since this was Lilah's business and not his, he'd seen no reason to say anything to her about it.

"*We* are, Lindsey. Because somehow, I don't think they'll simply let you just skip out when they get up here!" Lilah snarled at him. She hit the receiver of the phone a few times, trying to get a connection. "Damn it! Millions of dollars spent on a state-of-the-art security system, and it falls apart when we actually need it?"

"Maybe if you just play nice with them. Find out what they want?" Lindsey commented.

"Oh, please, you know what they want!" She nodded to the white Orb on her desk, containing Faith's soul.

"But I'm not giving it up. We went through far too much fuss to get it and keep it, just to hand it over now!" She turned to the third occupant of the office. "You're supposed to be messing with their minds. I don't see them being messed!"

The psychic who had dealt with the earlier Siberian attack looked flushed as he responded, "I'm *trying*. I'm giving it to them with both barrels, but I'm having no effect!"

"So then, don't attempt anything fancy. Just blast their minds into mush, and be done with it!" Lilah ordered.

"What the hell do you think I've been doing!? There's too many of them for me to try anything else..." he growled back. The tension in the room was quickly rising.

"Much as I enjoy getting a taste of the Lilah Morgan method of dealing with problems? I think it's best if we evacuate our position," Lindsey said.

Lilah nodded at that, for as much as she hated to admit it - the man had a point. She grabbed the Orb and started towards the door, "We can get to the roof, and use the helicopter to get out of here-"

The male Texan started to follow her, then he stopped. "No, I don't think that's an option anymore..."

Lilah turned in anger. "Why not-" she said. Then her voice trailed off, as she looked out the window and watched several black helicopters fly past the office suite.

"Because I'd say our guests have already thought of that," Lindsey observed.

At this point in her life, Lilah wasn't senior enough to know about the secret bolthole in a closet, that led to the safety of the sewers. So after securing the Orb within her desk she desperately sought out options, "Well, then, what do you suggest?"

Lindsey shrugged, his fake hand gesturing upwards. "I know it's risky, but what about the White Room?"

Lilah blanched. "Are you nuts? We don't have the authority to go there for something like this! And even if we did - I don't want to spend the rest of my life gibbering inside a padded cell!"

Lindsey sighed. "Fine, *you* think of something!"

Lilah was about to use her cell phone to try to contact the liaison to the Senior Partners...when she stopped. "What was that? I'm sure I heard something..."

Both Lilah and Lindsey stood silent for a second, straining to hear what Lilah had heard. A muffled roar could be heard, with some gunshots also mixed in.

"Ours?" Lindsey asked.

Lilah shook her head. "The special protection team doesn't use firearms. But that wasn't what I'm talking about..." She hurried over to the door, and cautiously opened it.

Her eyes opened wide, as she saw her boss Nathan Reed staggering through the reception area. "Sir?" Lilah said in surprise. "Mr. Reed, you're back. What happened?"

Nathan Reed walked uncertainly into the office. Once inside, Lilah shut the door behind him as the bald man started to speak. "They took me. They...did things to me. Some foreigner with a weird accent, he...they...it was all because of your Harris project!" he suddenly said, with a pointed look at Lilah.

The brunette woman instantly tried to cover her ass. "Uh, sir, let's not do anything hasty with regard to that right now. On account of they're clearly engaging in illegal activities - and what they did to you is grounds for..." Lilah started to explain.

"No, Ms. Morgan, they don't care about any of that. Writs and lawsuits don't bother these people; the law is not their concern. We need more *direct* methods to deal with them!" Reed hurried over to Lilah's desk and grabbed the phone.

Lindsey suddenly spoke up. "Sir, not that we're not glad to have you back. But how-?"

Reed was frowning, as he slammed down the dead phone. "They flew me to the top of the building, and dropped me off. Told me to " Reed shut himself up, still inwardly fuming at the voice with an Iowan accent telling him to 'hurry off and go join your demon friends'.

"Why brings us to another question!" Lindsey said with a definite lack of respect, as he had already figured out what the Senior Partners would now think of Reed - based on what had happened, and was happening. "Why? Why let you go now?"

Lilah and Lindsey exchanged a look. And Lilah was the first to vocalize what they were both thinking. "'Cause they knew he'd come here. Almost like a homing beacon." The two of them turned to Nathan Reed, with fearful looks on their faces.

"What are you implying?" Reed said testily. He hadn't had a fun time over the last two weeks, and he really wasn't in the mood for anything besides payback on those who had held him.

"You led them right here. Straight to me!" Lilah said, with a sinking feeling of dread.

"Of course, they're counting on the Orb being here with you. Which was smart of them," Lindsey said with a shrug. "And why waste time searching the whole building, when they had their own little homing pigeon?"

Reed's angry retort to their comments was prevented by a loud crash. The sound of a vampire turning into dust was instantly accompanied by a feral roar.

The sudden silence was shattered by a voice calling out, "Honey, we're home!"

Lilah recognized the voice as the one from the lobby. {Well, crap.} She looked at Lindsey who just shrugged at her, putting on an air of indifference. {Come on, he can't be that collected right now; he's in the exact same boat as the rest of us!}

Lilah quickly pulled her cell phone out to contact the wet works and SWAT teams of the firm. {Never mind the problems down the road. I'll worry later about the costs, and what the liaison to the Senior Partners thinks of all this - if I live out the hour! }

But before she could do that, the phone on her desk started ringing. The four people in the office looked at each other for a second, before Reed answered it. "Yes?"

He listened for a few seconds, and then Nathan held out the receiver towards Lilah. "It's for you."

Lilah hesitated for a second, then walked over and grabbed the phone from Reed. "Lilah Morgan." Suddenly, it sounded as if her office door had opened...

However, when the occupants of the office looked at it, the doorway was still firmly shut. Lilah's attention turned back to the phone, as someone started to speak to her...

"You know, you really have gone out of your way to tick me off. Really worked at it, too. I mean - there are ragheads in the Middle East who've annoyed me less, that I blew up just on general principles!" She recognized the voice from the earlier conversations.

"Well, it seems to me that you have anger management issues," Lilah observed. She then motioned at Lindsey to get him to use his cell phone to summon help.

"And *you* seem to have issues with grabbing things that aren't yours. I mean, stealing someone's soul from Heaven? That can't look good on your résumé..."

"Not that I'm acknowledging anything of the sort, but there is no proof that will ever stand up in a court of law that I've done anything improper," Lilah replied.

That was answered with a snort, one that seemed to have an odd echo effect. "Oh, please - with the people you've pissed off, myself included? This won't ever get to a court of law. You know as well as I do that matters like this are settled...elsewhere."

Lilah cast a worried glance at the door. She saw that Lindsey was listening to his cell phone, but then he looked at Lilah and shrugged in frustration. Clearly, the hired gunmen weren't answering the phone quick enough for his liking.

Lilah knew that she had to buy time, but she had no idea that Riley's squads had already assassinated every single SWAT team member the firm had within the building. "Perhaps we can reach some sort of an understanding? I mean, is there something I can procure for you that you would accept as...restitution?" the female attorney asked.

"Ah, being a lawyer now are you? Funny thing is, I can't tell if that's a lower form of life than someone who steals from Heaven! Got to be a close competition, anyway. Still, just for the sake of argument - what can you give us that we would want?"

Lilah faintly smiled. This was a start. "We have many connections and great power, of both the mystical and mundane variety. If you're who I think you are, I'd imagine that your military career could be advanced greatly by our influence-"

"Lady, give me a break. No *wonder* women like you used to be stoned to death, around 2,000 years ago! You *have* noticed what we've been doing to your law firm the last little bit, right? So somehow, your offer of putting a favorable letter in my file jacket just doesn't sound that appealing to me. There's only one thing I want from you, and you damn well know what it is!"

Lilah panicked a second. {Calm down. You have what they want. They're not going to blow up the building or anything like that, because they're worried it might get destroyed too.} She motioned at Lindsey to go lock the door to the office. He did so, while continuing to listen to the cell phone.

"Still no answer," MacDonald whispered to her, as he walked back over to the desk. Clearly, he didn't want to be near the door if Lilah was wrong about the explosion part.

Lilah turned her attention back to the phone conversation. "You understand that I really can't confirm anything you're saying. But even if what you're claiming is true, why should I give up my advantage? As let's face it, you're working against the clock here. How long can it be before reinforcements arrive-"

"Longer than you think. You've been hearing all those big loud booms downstairs, haven't you? Do you really think that little old me could do all that, by myself? Besides, I don't think your pet monsters really know how to handle an M1 tank-"

"They might surprise you," Lilah said archly.

"No, no, they actually won't," was the reply. And something about his tone of voice worried Lilah.

"I'm not sure what good this alleged object would do for you, anyway. It's really an item of limited charm." Lilah glared at Lindsey again, trying to will his cell phone to work.

"Well, now, to be honest with you - the kid really deserves some peace of mind. And so does Ms. LeHane, for that matter. The kid was sweet on her. So bottom line, I want to give it to the guy - for him to do with it what he will."

Lilah inwardly smiled. {Another negotiating tool.} "It's my understanding that Mr. Harris, who I assume you mean by 'the kid', is currently unavailable..." But her voice trailed off, as she remembered Reed had just been released by those now attacking her law firm.

"You assumed wrong. And Pylea? If you ever go back there, you'll find it under new management. These days it's a nice woodsy place with pleasant people, the key word here being 'people'."

Lilah was silent for a moment. "Mr. Harris-?"

"-is dead, as you learned in San Francisco last year. By the way, we still need to settle accounts for that, and I *won't* be forgetting your role in that little fiasco! I believe though Mr. Alexander Hall's indicated a desire to want to chat with you concerning his trip to Pylea, and that Orb in question."

Lilah swung around and really glared at Lindsey, hoping against hope that he had been able to reach someone. Then in a flash of intuition - she suddenly understood that the Texan son of a bitch had figured out beforehand how all this was going to go down, and hadn't bothered to say anything to her about it...

The voice on the other end of the phone mocked Ms. Morgan, "You know - if you glare at him any harder, his head is going to explode. And while normally that's something that I wouldn't care about one way or the other, I figure the splatter would spoil that lovely dress that you're wearing. It shows off your legs quite nicely, I have to say."

Lilah bit back a retort at that. "I'll have you..." her voice trailed off. "How did you know I was glaring at someone, and about the dress I'm wearing?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly as she glanced at the window.

"Darn! Oh well, guess the jig's up. I guess I better introduce myself..." the voice said.

A loud boom filled the office, as the telepath's head exploded like a festive piñata and his headless corpse slid to the ground.

The splatter didn't reach Lilah, but Reed got some blood and brain matter on him. He cursed and jumped back, but did nothing more.

Lilah quickly looked at the door, and saw it was still closed. Her eyes widened though, when she realized that the office had several more occupants than she remembered from before the gunshot.

She looked around her intently. There were three men in fatigues, all carrying firearms. One of them she recognized from the security camera in the lobby. He was the one with a pistol in his hand, that still had smoke coming from the barrel.

There was also a bearded man dressed in civilian clothes that was rubbing his forehead, as if he had a headache. However, Lilah's attention was riveted to something else.

The huge, growling werewolf that was less than ten feet from her.

"So, now that we've got all the hocus-pocus out of the way? We want the Orb and her soul. As in right now," Cleburne said in a harsh, no-nonsense voice.

The female lawyer was terrified, but determined not to let it show. "You should know that the Senior Partners aren't going to stand for this-" Lilah started to say.

"Oh, yeah? And what exactly are they going to do? Declare war on the United States government? I kinda think the world would notice that - and last time I checked, your bosses and their demon clients prefer hiding in the shadows. Public disclosure would be a very bad thing for them," Cleburne replied.

He walked over to Lilah. "Now, my lycanthrope friend here isn't as patient as I am. Fact is that you got a buddy of his hurt, and I'd imagine that it's taking everything he's got right now - to prevent himself from tearing you all to pieces! I also imagine that if we don't get what we came for soon, said self-control will go bye-bye. I mean, can you imagine the things an upset werewolf would do to you people?" Cleburne asked with a smile.

Lilah just looked at Cleburne.

"Where is it?" the secret agent suddenly barked out, using a voice that expected to be obeyed - and promised horrible things if it turned out otherwise.

"Upper right desk drawer," Lilah managed to reply.

Cleburne walked over, and stared the drawer. "Booby traps?"

"There aren't any..."

He glared at the lawyer, and pulled out his weapon again, aiming carefully. Lilah rolled her eyes, and murmured an incantation; the desk glowed red briefly, as it deactivated itself from unauthorized use.

Cleburne retired the gun, and pulled out the glowing Orb. "Got it," he said to the others.

"You can't do this! You won't get away with what you've done to me, to us-" Reed started to say.

"Quite a change for you, isn't it. Being on the receiving end, I mean - eh, man?" Cyrus said with a slight smile. And Reed actually shrank back from the sound of his guttural voice.

"You know, at this point, normally - I would just kill all of you, and be done with it," Cleburne declared.

"After all, you work for the enemies of my country - not to mention my species - and I have no moral objections to terminating people like you, with extreme prejudice," the USMC officer said as he walked towards the door, the others following him. "However, I think the kid's earned the right to send you all to Hell personally - after everything you did to him, and his lady friend."

"She's already dead, you know," Lindsey complained, forgetting about plausible deniability at this late stage.

"Hey, the dead have feelings too! Just ask any of your pet vampires," Gunny said as he exited the office, the door having been unlocked by the Russian civilian.

Cleburne stopped at the door, and looked back at the werewolf. "Wolfie, come on! We're done here..."

Oz growled for a second at Lilah, looking ready to go for her throat; then he turned and exited the room with a single huge leap. Cleburne coldly surveyed the three lawyers, "Not that I'm any expert on corporate politics, but I'm thinking you three are going to have a *lot* of explaining to do to your bosses. Not to mention the kid probably coming for you all, before too long..." With that, he just closed the door behind him.

Gunny waited for him, and they made their way to the stairwell. "Why didn't you kill them?" he asked.

"The kid deserves the pleasure, as I said. Plus, they're known quantities. We won't have to spend time figuring out who's running things around here, at least until the Senior Partners replace them. Besides, I suspect with the way those three will start gunning for each other? Anything we could do to them would pale in comparison to what they're going to do to themselves," Cleburne replied with a grin, as he entered the stairwell.

Gunny followed him. "Also, there's the fact that you have the hots for her..." Rose quipped just as the door shut, muffling the annoyed shout from Cleburne in response.

**Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles, California. A few minutes later**

Cordy idly went about her work. Filing here and there, with half an eye on the TV as the midday news was shown on the screen.

Things had calmed down with the Fang Gang, recently. After the raid on the Wolfram & Hart charity event and the fight on the subway, things had been rather quiet. Even the evil law firm seemed to be taking a break from their usual activities, although Wesley was convinced it was just because they were working on some sort of secret scheme or another...

But Cordelia didn't care, as at least it gave her a chance to get things caught up in the office.

As for the others - Angel and Darla were somewhere in the hotel, trying to figure out where Spike and Dru might have gone off to. Wesley was using the time to do Watcher-type things, even though he wasn't a Watcher anymore. Gunn was doing his usual 'protector of the streets' thing. Gwen, well, she was doing whatever she did when she wasn't having a vision...

Cordy was trying hard, she really was; but she still disliked the newest addition to Angel's Avengers. As she often disappeared for long periods of time that Cordelia was uncomfortable with. Angel seemed to accept her, though; and the former cheerleader knew that whatever secret she had shared with him when she had first arrived, it had caused the undead Champion to fully accept the former thief.

Just as he had fully accepted the other addition to the group: Darla.

Angel had become close to being obsessed with Darla's condition; the brunette girl knew that. But Cordelia repeatedly told herself it was just the fact of having another vampire with a soul around. Anyway, she hoped that was simply what it was, but she couldn't forget that Angel surely seemed to have a thing for blondes...

And Cordelia wasn't blind, she could see how those two looked at one another sometimes. {I just have to make sure that she keeps her hands off of him. As Darla may have had her soul firmly attached, but Angel *hasn't*.}

Cordy sighed as she flipped the page on the most recent celebrity magazine she had been able to pick up, on account of picking up gossip was a unique process for her-

The image on the screen changed, and Cordy instantly leaned forward. "Angel, Wes, guys, get down here!" she shouted out.

She heard the footsteps coming to the office, and after a few seconds the room became occupied by Angel, Darla, Gwen and Wesley. Gunn still being out with his crew, on the street.

"What's wrong?" Angel asked.

"Shhhh!" Cordy pointed at the TV screen.

"That's Wolfram & Hart..." Wesley started to say.

"Quiet, they're talking!" Cordelia demanded.

"So, Clarice, was there any public announcement of this drill?" the TV anchor asked the reporter on the scene.

The blonde reporter shook her head. "No, Tom. My understanding is that this anti-terrorism drill was a complete surprise to the local authorities. I'd imagine Wolfram & Hart had some advance knowledge of it, of course, as they allowed their building to be used for the drill just now..."

"They donated their building for something like that? Doesn't sound right..." Darla said.

"How much longer will the area be cordoned off?" the anchor asked.

"Tom..." She appeared to listen to something off-screen. "Yes, the LAPD says the cleanup should be finished within the next hour or so. And they're hoping to open up the streets again, before too long."

Tom nodded. "Thank you, Clarice. And for those of you who've just tuned in, to recap - downtown LA was the scene today of an anti-terrorism drill, conducted by a unique combination of the FBI and ATF law enforcement agencies. It's now over and it's being requested that you avoid the area, until later in the afternoon. Now, here's Aaron Bentley with sports-"

Cordy leaned over, and turned down the volume. She turned to the others, "Okay, does anyone else think that that sounded way *totally* fishy?"

Wesley agreed. "Yes, definitely. Wolfram & Hart has never struck me as the most charitable organization around..."

"We'll have to find out more," Angel said firmly.

Nearby Gwen just looked silently at the screen, having a pretty good idea of where to start asking questions.

**Hadley Street, Sunnydale, California. Later that day**

Dawn Summers gripped the passenger seat of the automobile that she was riding in, in pure mortal fear.

Because normally, a car ride with her sister Buffy was a harrowing experience. In fact, Dawn had more than once thought that Buffy had blown up her old high school, to get rid of the records from her Driver's Ed classes...

But when Buffy was driving while she was also upset over something, well - Dawn was *truly* scared now. She had been scared, ever since they'd left the high school.

Ever since Buffy had found Dawn, beneath the bleachers of the school's football field.

Making out with Kevin Berman.

The thing was that by this time, Dawn had gotten over her feelings of guilt that she was betraying Xander's memory by being with a boy her own age - as she really liked her new crush, and had decided to seize the moment so to speak. And what with both their teen hormones, things had been heating up...

But Buffy had scared Kevin away pretty quickly, with a small display of Slayer strength that left one of the bleacher seats bent in half. She had then grabbed her sister by the arm, to drag her home.

Dawn had immediately started complaining about what Buffy had done, of course. She'd most likely lost Kevin as a potential boyfriend, and there'd be rumors spread around the entire school that her big sis was a psycho. And she had continued complaining, until Buffy had started driving.

Because at that point, self-preservation had been Dawn's prime consideration over her anger at her sister.

Buffy soon pulled Joyce Summers' SUV up in front of 1630 Revello Drive, and turned off the engine. She sat silently for a few seconds, and then turned and looked at her sibling.

"What were you thinking?"

"Buffy-"

"For God's sake, Dawn!" the Slayer shouted. "Don't even *try* to convince me it was something other than what it was, I know what I saw! The way you two were kissing - that guy was just about ready to start dry-humping you!"

"He was NOT! Kevin wouldn't have done that-"

"Dawn, he's a teenage boy. And boys his age? They only think about one thing, they really can't be counted on to exercise the best judgement! That's why *you* have to the one to keep your head on straight-"

"Hey - I, I was in control of it! It's not like I didn't know what I was doing!" Dawn shot back.

"Really? Then why were you being so irresponsible? You *knew* I was coming to pick you up, you should have been waiting for me outside in front of the school! Instead - you made me come look for you, all over the place. Then when I found you the way I did..." Buffy said crossly, as she got out of the SUV.

Dawn followed her, grabbing her book bag. She had an angry look on her face too. "I am not a child anymore!"

"You're 14 years old-"

"Hey, I'm 15!" Dawn corrected her sister. "In just a few months..."

"That's still too young for that sort of thing!" Buffy retorted, as they walked up the sidewalk to the house.

"Says the former Spordelia of Hemery High? Besides, when you were my age, you were about to start slaying vampires! You became the Slayer - going out at night, plunging your stake into vamps and creepy things..." Dawn smirked, thinking she had scored a point.

Buffy's skin tone reddened at that. "That has got nothing to do with this. The point is that Kevin might have wanted *more* that just making out under the bleachers! My God, do you think you're ready for something like that? I'm older than you, Dawn, so trust me - I, I know what boys are like!" Buffy almost shouted at her sister.

Dawn got a look on her face. "You're just jealous, 'cause Greg dumped you during the weekend. Or maybe it's because you can't keep a boyfriend? Look at your history. Does the name 'Angel' ring a bell?" she asked in a catty tone.

A look of giant hurt crossed Buffy's face, and Dawn instantly felt bad. "Buffy, I'm sorry. I had no right to say that, I-I know what Angel meant to you. I didn't mean it, and I'm *really* sorry..."

Buffy reached up and rubbed her forehead. "I know. Look, Dawn, we'll talk about it later; for now let's just get inside, okay? Mom's home, and I think she needs some cheering up. She seemed kinda down last night, and didn't seem any better this morning. So we need to do what we can to keep her spirits up, and the best way to do that is not to fight in front of her. Capisce?"

Left unsaid was the knowledge possessed by both the Summers girls, that the dreaded date of February 21, 2001 was fast approaching. The date that the presumed-dead Xander Harris had warned would be the day of Joyce's death.

Naturally everyone was on pins and needles concerning that, all the Scoobies didn't quite know how to react to what might happen over the next few weeks.

But Dawn simply nodded at Buffy's statement, as the blonde unlocked the front door and held it open for her sister. The human incarnation of the Key quickly walked in, followed by the Slayer.

Suddenly Dawn stopped in the hall and dropped her book bag, as Buffy hurried forward to see what was wrong.

She then stopped next to her sister, with her mouth hanging open in shock.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!" the Chosen One shouted at the top of her lungs.

On the couch, Joyce and Giles were hurriedly moving apart from each other. But a few seconds before, they had been engaged in the same activity that Buffy had caught Dawn and Kevin doing earlier; oh, except that the Englishman had been laying on top of their mother, as the two adults eagerly swapped spit.

Buffy hurriedly tried to shield Dawn's eyes, as she saw that Joyce was needing to refasten some buttons. However, Dawn just swatted Buffy's hand away, as she stared in disbelief at the two older people on the couch.

"Buffy? You're home early-" Joyce managed to say in a strangled tone of voice.

"No, it's almost four!" Buffy replied, still in a state of shocked denial.

Joyce looked at a clock on the wall. "So it is, I - guess we lost track of time-"

Buffy wasn't satisfied with that answer. "What happened, did you guys have some of that band candy again for an afternoon snack?"

"No! I-I-I came over to check on Joyce. She was upset. We started talking, and-and then she started crying, I hugged her and I guess before we knew it..." Giles stammered out.

"So, are you two going to boink now?" Dawn asked in a chipper tone.

"Dawn!" came from the mouths of the other three people in the room.

Dawn shrugged with a crooked grin on her face. "What, you think I don't know what sex is?"

Joyce glared at her daughter. "Dawn, go to your room. Please," the middle-aged woman then said in a sympathetic tone of voice. As she really couldn't yell at her youngest that much, considering the position her kids had just found her in.

Dawn glared right back. "Fine. But honestly, I don't see why! I mean, you people put all this energy into chasing and secrecy and brooding or whatever, over what should be something like totally natural! I just - I don't understand these so-called adult relationships, where you all do these insane-o things! And if that's what I have to look forward to, when I grow up? Then Xander was right in that dream I had last month, I'll take being a kid any day!"

With that - Dawn reached down, grabbed her bag and stormed up the staircase. After a few seconds, the sounds of a door slamming could be clearly heard.

Giles quickly got up, intending to flee the room. His plans were short-circuited though, when a very angry Slayer appeared in front of him.

"Sit. Down!" she said in a firm tone, her hands on her hips, a clear sign of Buffy mood 'I am Slayer, obey me!'

Giles sat back down slowly, hoping that his charge wasn't too ticked. "Ah, now, Buffy, look...I-I know that-"

Buffy cut off the British man at once. "What are your intentions towards my mother? And they had better be honorable, Watcher man!"

"Buffy!" Joyce almost yelped.

Giles took a deep breath, and tried to compose an answer that would hopefully leave his body parts intact. {Xander, why the devil couldn't you have warned me about *this* in one of those blasted letters of yours?}

**Sunnydale Airport, Sunnydale, California. Later that evening**

Rupert Giles, if he had been at the airport later on, could in fact have asked that question to Xander in person.

Of course, he would've also have had to know that Xander was still alive, that his plane was arriving at the airport, and avoid the copious yet discreet security provided by the Siberians!

Still, if he had been able to deal with all that, then the Englishman would definitely have surprised Xander - as Harris didn't know where the hell he had just landed. He simply knew it had been a long flight from Georgia, to this new site.

Xander stretched his legs, as he walked off the plane. He saw Cleburne and Monsignor Bentallo waiting for him, next to a black SUV.

"Come on, kid. Got an errand to run," Cleburne motioned for Xander to hurry up. Fred started to follow Xander...

"Sorry, Ms. Burkle, but it's just Howard for this one. Red, we'll be back in a while," Cleburne said firmly.

Fred didn't look happy about that. {Why won't they let me come? Probably some cloak and dagger stuff. Don't they know though, that that sort of thing went out of style along with 'I Spy'? }

"Don't worry, Fred, I'll be back as soon as we're done," Xander reassured Fred. "Just continue talking to the Wizard about that bridge thing till I get back, okay?"

Fred was a little mollified by that, as Xander and the others drove down the runway. "So, where are we going?" Harris asked.

"Have to return something. I figured you'd want to help out, given the circumstances..." Cleburne said from the driver's seat, as he navigated off the airport grounds onto the exit road. "Oh, and we have one other person to pick up..."

Xander just leaned back in his seat, not really paying attention to the world outside the tinted windows of the SUV. He dozed off, but was jolted awake when the car stopped and a tall man got in.

Xander glanced over. "Hey, Lemke?" he said sleepily. "Uh, thought you were in Sunnydale-"

Xander suddenly jerked upright, looked out the window - and saw the Magic Box. "Oh holy shit, what am I doing *here*?" he shouted at the senior Siberian.

"Don't worry, kid, I'm on top of the situation," Cleburne said over his shoulder, as he merged the SUV back into traffic.

"Don't worry? Don't *worry*!? Have you forgotten who lives in this damn town? And do you know what'll happen, if I encounter them?" Harris snapped back, leaning forward to make the point.

"Where do I turn here?" Cleburne asked Lemke, simply ignoring the rant.

Josef pointed to his left. "Go left for three blocks. I'll let you know when to turn again." Lemke turned to face Xander. "Look, Hall..."

"It's Alexander Howard now," Cleburne corrected.

Lemke continued on, without batting an eye. "Sorry, Howard. But everything's fine; Ms. Rosenberg and her girlfriend are covering for me at my shop. I checked on the others, and they're all over at the Summers residence; and funny thing is, they've been spending a lot of time over there lately. So, we should remain undisturbed for as long as you're here."

"As long as I'm here for what?" Xander asked. Not thinking about Joyce right at this moment.

"You'll see. You'll see, kid," Cleburne commented. He reached down next to his seat, and handed back to Xander a sheaf of papers. "Here, read this. It'll fill you in on everything that's been going on here in Sunnydale. Basically, it's a summary of Lemke's reports over the last year or so."

Xander glared at Cleburne, as he took the papers. {And I'm getting this now, why?}

Bentallo leaned over. "Don't worry, my son. If your friends even so much as look as if they may be heading into our vicinity, we'll be alerted at once."

"You're following them?" Xander said in an accusing tone of voice.

"Bet your ass we are! 'Cause I don't like surprises," Cleburne said. "Turn here?" he asked of Lemke.

"Yes. Then five blocks, and straight on to the entrance," Lemke directed his commanding officer.

Xander grumbled to himself, and started looking over the papers. "You guys had better be right about this..." he mumbled to himself.

"I always am, kid!" Cleburne announced heartily.

The SUV was silent for the next five minutes. And as they pulled into a cemetery entrance Xander suddenly spoke up in a soft voice, "What the...Anya's here? And she's human?!"

Lemke nodded from in front. "Yes, apparently Ms. Jenkins has been in town for over a year now. You're surprised that she's human, though? I mean, I know she's rather money-hungry, but I didn't think that meant anything too bad-"

"No - I - she's dating Andrew!?" Xander almost shouted, staring at the pages in both disbelief and horror. {My God, it's not possible. Is it? The woman I once fell in love with...chose *that* guy, with me not being around in Sunnyhell? Oh man, I *knew* that something was happening between them towards the end there during 2003, but this...? }

"Calm down already, kid! You'll have plenty of chances to yell later, but for now we're here," Cleburne said as he parked the SUV.

Xander looked around at the cemetery. "Where?"

Cleburne got out of the SUV, followed by the others. Xander looked around again and said, "I recognize this place, it's Shadyhill Cemetery. But why are we here?"

Cleburne looked solemn, as he produced the glowing Orb of Thesulah. "Because her grave is located here. And this seemed the best place to do what needed to be done," he nodded at a nearby tombstone.

"Faith-?" Xander said in a soft voice, as comprehension came to him.

Cleburne nodded, as they walked over to the tombstone. Then as the Siberian handed the Orb to Xander he said, "Take as much time as you need. We'll be over here when you're ready-"

But then he cut himself off, as Cleburne noticed the expression on Xander's face.

Because for the first time *ever*, the expression the Marine saw on the kid's features was one of pure bliss.

Right next to him in body, but far, far away in spirit, Xander was practically stunned by the feelings he had been hit with - the moment he'd grasped the Orb containing Faith's soul.

On account of for the first time in years - his former lover was right there with him.

Everything the brunette Slayer was, or rather had been, everything she had ever felt for him - Xander could feel it right now, through the glass ball in his palms. He felt Faith's love, her joy, her pain, her sorrow...all of it. The only thing missing was a corporeal vessel, which Harris wanted to take in his arms and kiss like there was no tomorrow...

"Kid?" Cleburne demanded, not liking the way Xander's eyes had glazed over. The Orb certainly hadn't affected *him* that way. "Kid, what is it? What's wrong?"

Xander took a deep breath, as he opened his eyes and placed the Orb securely on the tombstone. "Nothing," the young man replied, not wanting to explain - and uncertain if he could do so, anyway. "I was just - taking a moment..."

Cleburne nodded suspiciously, and moved off. Xander then briefly looked down, and read the inscription.

_Faith LeHane _

_March 24, 1982 - May 21, 1999 _

_The heart of a lioness rests_

"Hello, Faith," he said, as he glanced at the Orb on the tombstone. "Sorry I haven't been here before, but like they say - better late than never, and at least I'm here now. And I'm so sorry this happened to you. You deserved better..."

Harris took another deep breath. "You shouldn't have died at graduation, sweetheart. You should have lived, and gotten to meet Robin Wood. I mean, I don't know if you and he would have lasted in the first go-around, or even made a go of it in this world - but still, you deserved the right to try..." He paused for a second.

"'Course, I also wish you'd lived so that you and I could have gotten back together, one day. I swear, I so wanted to find you and try to convince ya to come with me to Canada...except of course I had that entire screaming-in-agony thing to deal with, and you had that whole Slayer destiny deal goin'..."

A sigh. "I'm more sorry than you'll ever know, about how much I hurt you back then."

The memories of 1999 rolled around in his brain, and Xander remembered Angel saying how much Faith had wanted him back after that night in the library. But the vampire had then also admitted she alone had understood the necessity to distance himself from the gang, had cared enough to put his welfare before hers - and let him go when he'd needed it.

"And Faith? I know it's pretty selfish of me, but I hope you'll also forgive me for doing what I have to do today as well," Xander looked at the Orb again.

"Because it all makes sense now. What Lorne said to me, that night at his club? No matter how much I want to, I can't bring you back. On account of I *know* what happens when you upset the Slayer line that way, like we did back then with Buffy. You get the First stomping around, trying to set up shop here in this world! And let me tell you, Faith-y, that's no fun at all..."

Nearby Cleburne, Lemke and Bentallo stood around the SUV, watching Xander. "It's got to be rough on him," Lemke said.

"Goes without saying," Cleburne said with a shrug. "The suits didn't help things by hiding the truth about Ms. LeHane's soul, either."

"So what now?" the former sniper asked.

"Well, we help him deal with her soul being returned to where it belongs. Then we get him to trust us again, somehow. And *that's* not going to be easy," Cleburne observed. Nearby, Xander's shoulders were slumped down as he continued talking to the Orb.

"And his friends here?" Bentallo asked.

Cleburne raised an eyebrow at that. "Why should we even care? They abandoned him on the street that night, and my opinion of people who leave someone behind in the field like that is pretty low!"

"They *were* just kids then," Lemke interjected. "Teenagers."

"So?" Cleburne asked, clearly not in a forgiving mood.

"Look, Colonel - the thing is that I've gotten to know them all fairly well, over the last year or so. And in my opinion those two are good people, all in all."

Seeing the expression on Joshua's face he quickly went on, "Sir, you know as well as I do that teenagers don't really have the best decision-making skills. I remember hearing that the Siberians considered *you* to be almost too young, back in '83 - you were what, 23 years old? A Marine fresh out of Annapolis and Beirut, before you were thrown right into the thick of things. And let's not even talk about Gunny; he was what, back then? A 19-year-old, green-as-hell lance-corporal..."

Lemke finished up, "Those kids, they had - at most - the guidance from a Watcher or two? They were both immature and green. Throw in those rampant teenage hormones as well, and I'm kinda surprised they managed to avoid letting the world get blown up on their watch..."

"Yeah, they had it rough," Cleburne agreed. "However, that doesn't excuse what those three did."

"No, it doesn't. It just helps you understand why. Look, we both know what you would have done - if someone under your command had done something like that; it's one of the reasons we'd all follow you into Hell itself. However, those girls weren't soldiers like the ones you're used to dealing with. You didn't get to hand-select those kids; Ms. Summers was drafted by a bunch of mystical super-people up there, and the other two volunteered themselves into a war they knew next to nothing about," Lemke said.

"All that still doesn't justify what happened," Cleburne said stubbornly.

"No, my son, it doesn't - does it? But man sins. That is his nature, ever since the serpent tempted Eve in the Garden. It's also why Christ died on the cross; for us and for our salvation, for our chance to achieve redemption from sin. As everyone deserves the chance to gain forgiveness," Bentallo said. "Also, I cannot help thinking that *you* are not the one to determine if forgiveness shall be granted for all this. That would be Mr. Howard's choice."

The senior Siberian made a face. "You're not happy about the situation?" Lemke observed.

Cleburne snorted. "Hell, no! That entire mess gives me an ulcer, just thinking about it. The kid getting left on the street. Even worse, the kid withholding information from the girl! For God's sake, *I* would never send someone into a situation like that, without full information."

Lemke raised an eyebrow at that. "Colonel - Xander was just a scared 17-year-old boy back then, hard as it is to imagine him like that nowadays! He had a broken arm, the rest of his unit was either captured, injured or dead, and he knew that the world's only hope rested on Ms. Summers being able to kill a soulless vampire. The very same demon, who had the face of her one true love...and which she had failed to stake more than once before..."

Josef paused for a second. "May as well face it, Mother Hen - teenage schoolgirls just aren't as cold-blooded as we can be. Howard made a decision based on everything that had happened; the same kind of judgement call you or I would make on the battlefield. Maybe he would have decided differently if he'd had more time to think about it, but you said it once years ago when we were arguing over Grant and Lee in the Civil War; sometimes, a quick decision based on gut instinct is better than one reasoned out."

Cleburne looked at his two companions. "Did you two plan to double-team me on this today?"

Lemke half-smiled. "I'll never tell."

"It merely seemed advantageous to me to have someone who had dealt with you for years, help me to make my point. Because we need to facilitate Mr. Harris coming to peace with his former friends..." Bentallo declared.

"Calming his soul, are we?" Cleburne asked.

"Amongst other things," Bentallo replied vaguely.

Cleburne shifted his gaze to look right at the Monsignor. "Is there something you want to tell us?"

Bentallo shook his head. "Not yet. One day perhaps, but not now."

Cleburne was prevented from pursuing the subject, by Xander approaching the group. "I'm ready. What do we do now?"

"The time has come-"

"-for us to release her back-"

"-to where she belongs," the Furies said, as they glided into view from the other side of the SUV. Shocking the four men who had just ridden in it.

"Where did you girls come from?" Cleburne blurted out. "Because I'm pretty sure I would have noticed you all in the car, during the ride over!"

"You wouldn't understand," was the reply from the Asian Fury. The girls then turned to Xander. "Mmmm, Alexander," all three of the sisters chorused.

Harris grinned at the typical greeting. "Ladies..."

It was hard to define what their relationship actually was, really. Even though all three sisters had taken him as a lover, on a number of occasions - just as they had done with Angel, the few times he'd needed help and payment for services rendered was due - Xander knew that they weren't 'in love' with him.

Perhaps the best way to describe it was that they were friends...with privileges. Friends that thankfully weren't going to give birth to his children now, even though his seed still slept within them - and if the time was ever right, would be allowed to enter the world.

Xander took a deep breath. "What do I do?"

"Please relax. You need only-"

"-come with us-"

"-and do as we say," they said in succession, as the women led Xander back to the tombstone. The others followed behind him.

"The magic used-"

"-to steal her away-"

"-from her just reward."

"It must be-"

"-assured that-"

"-she is not denied her rest again," the Furies said in their sing-song manner.

The eldest Fury held out her hand, and Xander carefully placed the orb in it. "What can I do to help?" the man asked as he did so.

The second Fury glided up next to him. She smiled at Xander, who smiled back at her as she took his hand. Suddenly a small knife appeared in her fist, and Xander felt pain in the palm of his hand. He yelped in surprise, but didn't pull away as the blood started to flow from the minor wound.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Cleburne demanded, as he moved to Xander's side.

"The blood of a champion-"

"of the Forces of Good-"

"-can act to anchor her soul," the Furies explained, as the one with the knife moved towards her sister holding Faith's essence.

She held the weapon over the Orb, and several drops of human blood - blessed out of drinking from the Holy Grail itself - dripped down onto the orb, from the knife's tip. They then seemed to *soak* in, briefly turning the Orb's contents a dark red - before the white light shone through again.

"And you have earned-"

"-the right to be-"

"-the one who anchors her," the three sisters finished up. The orb was then handed back to Xander.

Harris took the glass ball reverently, and looked at the Furies. {Now what?}

The one who had handed the Orb of Thesulah to him nodded at the tombstone. "All is prepared."

"You need only smash the Orb."

"And she will go home, where she belongs."

Xander took a deep breath, and looked at the others. {I guess it's time, then.}

"Go ahead, my son," Bentallo said. "Eternity in Heaven should not be denied, to one who has earned her place therein."

Xander nodded. {That's just it, isn't it? However much I hate it...this is goodbye, forever. I'm sorry, Faith. But you have to move on...and I know that when my time comes, I won't be joining you up there. Not after everything I've done. } With a mental sigh, he brought down the orb with a great speed on the tombstone.

The shattering of glass was accompanied by an almost musical gust of wind, as the white light dispersed into the void. Xander briefly felt...contentment. Faith wasn't with him anymore, but he had the feeling that wherever she was - she was happy.

"Now you have to-"

"-meet someone important-"

"-in Los Angeles," the Furies said to Xander.

**Unknown place, unknown time**

A very pregnant Faith Harris waddled to the foot of the stairs, in the home she lived in with her husband. Suddenly clutching her belly, she looked up to the open bedroom door - knowing her husband was up there, taking a nap.

"Xander! Wake up! My water just broke!"

**Caritas Karaoke bar, Los Angeles, California. February 6, 2001**

Not long after midnight, Lorne rubbed his head vigorously. Luckily he had been able to send Ametila to get him a bottle of extra-strength painkillers from the office, when he'd seen just who it was that had walked in through the front door...

The one and only Alexander Lavelle Harris, and his travelling posse.

Xander had been glad to get out of Sunnydale, that was for sure. His former hometown held no special place in his heart, not with the potential for the mind-numbing headaches; and if the truth were to be told, he much preferred it here, further south.

As the young man had been driven into town, he'd recognized places that he'd been to more than once, during his time here as an amnesiac demon hunter.

Culver City.

Pershing Square.

Olympic Boulevard.

Yes, if it wasn't for the threat of Wolfram & Hart finding him - not to mention Cordelia Chase - *this* southern California boy would have made the City of Angels his home base from now on, and nothing either the Wizard or Cleburne could have said would have persuaded him otherwise.

In any case, getting back to Lorne, the waitress had gotten the pills for her boss - before spending a lot of time at the table where her newly-returned boyfriend had sat down.

And the Host had then gotten surprised, by the reaction of one Winifred Burkle...

The poor girl had instantly recognized his species, and begun babbling in fear; until Alexander had somehow calmed her down. Fred had still shied away from his presence though, and looked ready to bolt the moment he so much as even *looked* at her funny.

It didn't help that the Furies were with the Hall kid, either. {No, it's Howard now} Lorne corrected himself. The Furies had made it clear in their normal manner, that the man needed a reading.

And the three sisters weren't taking no for an answer, either from Xander or his fine self.

Thankfully, they didn't insist that he get on stage and sing to the entire club. Harris singing a bit of the Marine fighting song there at the bar, had been enough for their purposes.

And this time, Lorne didn't have the mind-blowing experience that he'd had outside the evil law firm's office building. Still, what he *had* seen, it was enough to worry the anagogic demon to the core.

Lorne turned to the older man, who had also come in with the group. As the Host remembered him, from when he'd asked questions about what was the what in Pylea...

"Listen up, honeysuckle. I've got only one thing to say to you; and that's tell that boy everything. Tell him what's happened in the past and what you're planning. Or you'll never get him to trust you again! Besides, he deserves to know. You can believe me on that..."

TBC...


	9. Chapter 33

**Part Thirty-three**

**Washington, D.C. February 8, 2001**

Cleburne strode into the conference room, with an air of grim determination.

The men around the table looked up at him, most of them with a look of self-important impatience. Then Esther followed Cleburne through the door, a few seconds later.

The pipe-smoking older gentleman at the head of the table spoke first. "Colonel Cleburne. We expected you earlier." As he spoke, Esther walked to a place behind him as Joshua placed himself at the end of the table.

"I was busy - taking care of my people," Cleburne replied with an edge.

"And here I thought your first responsibility was to us," a middle-aged white-haired man said with a sarcastic tone.

Cleburne raised an eyebrow at that. "Hoskins, these days you've gotten too damn self-important for your own good. And I didn't take an oath to a bunch of grey suits like yourselves; my oath was to the United States of America, and its Marine Corps. I don't leave my people behind. The kid was in trouble, so I went and got him. End of story."

"But it was more than just you, wasn't it? You used vast resources and manpower to effect that rescue. And now, the entire crew from the Wasp are aware of the secret. Questions will be asked," the elderly gentleman spoke with a tone of condemnation.

But Cleburne refused to be cowed. "Those people, they're Marines and sailors in the U.S. Navy. Last time I checked, they can keep a secret. Besides, who would believe a couple of bad apples if they did talk? As somehow, I don't think the New York Times would even give them the time of day - after they started talking about flying dragons," Cleburne actually smiled at the thought.

"That wasn't your decision to make," another of the men in grey suits said.

Cleburne turned and looked at him coldly. He leaned forward deliberately and placed his hands on the table. "How dare you..."

The Marine raised his voice, "How dare you keep something like this from us! From him. Harris had a right to know, damn it! He loved her. As much as she loved him. They were fellow warriors-"

"Mr. Harris wouldn't have seen the big picture," the white-haired man said at once.

Cleburne turned his glare to him. "And you did? Oh yeah, in hindsight you did such a great job of that. Playing Eyes-Only games, and hiding everything behind the curtain. Oh-so-subtle. You really thought that was going to work forever? Then you people are even dumber than I thought! Christ almighty, you managed to completely alienate our ace in the hole for what's coming during the next 2 1/2 years!"

"You're in no position to criticize..."

"Hell, yes, I am!" Cleburne interrupted the reply. "Because who in God's name do you think you're talking to? I'm not one of your office boys; I'm the one who goes out and does the unspeakable things for you people, in secret - so that you can lean back here in this room, and feel all smug and superior..."

Joshua glared at every single member of the Committee. "I've seen and done every single horrible thing ordered at your behest. Beirut, Beijing, Caracas, Tehran, Chicago, Nashville, Berlin...I could go on and on listing all the nasty hotspots where I've done what needed doing; but what about you? What action have you seen? I mean, besides jockeying in line for the men's room at the Kennedy center," Cleburne almost spat out.

"Colonel!" the elderly man said sharply. "Your attitude is not helping you-"

"And neither is yours, old man," Cleburne shot back.

"Indeed? I'm starting to wonder if you should continue working for us," the white-haired gentleman said.

"You just figured that out, you're a real genius Hoskins!"

"Cleburne..." Esther cautioned her colleague.

Cleburne ignored her and went on. "The fact is everyone knew that what you were doing was wrong. Even poor old Joyce Landhum over at the Company knew it. That's why she was drinking so much, and spilled the beans to her husband while he was divorcing her. She had regrets. She showed her humanity-"

"Mrs. Landhum showed poor judgement. If she hadn't shown such weakness, this set of unfortunate circumstances would not have come about," the elderly man intoned from the head of the table.

"Poor judgement? Well, maybe - she did marry that jerk, who squealed to the evil lawyers. However, I'd be careful if I were you of throwing around allegations of poor judgement. As I think the blame for this little mess of yours, starts right up there where you're sitting!" Cleburne snarled back.

"Colonel Cleburne. You are treading on very thin ice. We have made allowances for you in the past, based on your service to us. Do not make us reevaluate our attitude towards you," the elderly man said testily.

"Oh, go right ahead. Because I've been reevaluating *you* during the past few days," Cleburne replied.

"Colonel Cleburne. You are not in a position to complain about anything the Committee decided," Elderly Man visibly sought to retain control over his emotions. "And regretfully, it seems to me that it would be best if our association with you ceased."

"I agree completely. It'll be a great relief not to have to listen to your natterings again," Cleburne said through clenched teeth.

"Very well. Of course, you know that you're still covered by the National Security Act of 1948; you are not to reveal to anyone what you know or did, whilst seconded to Siberian Trip Wire. If you should do so, you'll be..."

The one named Hoskins trailed off, as he saw Cleburne saw smirking at him. "What?"

"You people kill me. I'm not going anywhere! You think I'm walking away from this fight? You're the ones who are leaving," Cleburne declared.

"Colonel!" the elderly man snapped. "You would do well to remember that you're in a great deal of trouble. I believe it's a court-martial offence to requisition military assets without official sanction, is it not? The improper and possibly illegal use of an amphibious assault ship and its complement puts you in a difficult position. You would be wise to keep your mouth shut, and just resume your status as a Marine officer in the chain of command-"

Cleburne interrupted him, "I had authorization for everything I did."

"How? You never once asked for permission to the Committee. And we would have most assuredly denied it, if you *had* asked. You cannot take it upon yourself to do what you did; you do not make policy-"

"I had authorization for everything I did," Cleburne repeated himself.

"He's right about that. And I should know; I gave it to him..."

The Committee members turned almost as one, to the doorway where a new participant had entered the conversation.

"Secretary Rumsfeld. This is unexpected..." the elderly man said.

"I would say so, from what I just heard!" the U.S. Secretary of Defense entered into the room. "And as for Colonel Cleburne's actions? Let the record show he had my full approval for his most recent mission. And last time I checked, I have the authority to do that."

"Secretary Rumsfeld. You can't be expected in the short time you've held office to have gotten fully up to speed on the Committee, and its inner workings-" the one that Cleburne had called Hoskins started to say.

"Mister, I sat in this very room almost twenty years ago, as a matter of fact in that chair, dealing with the inner workings of the Committee. I am fully up to speed on how this group works. Or should work, anyway..."

Rumsfeld started to walk along the table. "And as I recall, it isn't exactly in the chain of command over what gets done with U.S. military assets."

"Colonel Cleburne endangered the integrity of this organization by his actions," the elderly man said softly.

"I saved one of our own!" Cleburne replied at once.

"Technically, Mr. Harris is not one of us. He's a murderer; and he's officially dead, with no legal identity any longer. Thus, he is a resource. Nothing more, nothing less," one of the other members of the Committee spoke up. "You also entered into an arrangement with...certain elements of the Russian government, which revealed classified secrets to them."

Behind the table, Esther shuffled her feet; for she also had been part of that arrangement. {This could get tricky.}

Cleburne reddened. "The Russians gave us access to Project Raspustin, which now means that the evil lawyers-for-hire can't play those mind games like they used to. I'd say that was a fair trade!"

He then took a deep breath before continuing, "And as for Alexander Harris, he's a valued member of my team. He has sacrificed almost everything he had for us, and what we're fighting for. Damn it! He's a human being, not a resource!" Cleburne almost shouted.

"Colonel Cleburne. You're relieved," the elderly man at the head of the table declared.

"No, you're relieved. Because who are you going to get to remove me? Wake up and smell the coffee; every single one of the field ops knows by now that you were ready to abandon Harris in the field to a fate worse than death. They know that you withheld information from him, too. Bottom line? They don't want to work for you anymore," Cleburne declared.

"I'm afraid he's right," Esther Marcum suddenly spoke up. "The field agents, as a whole, have made it perfectly clear that they don't care for the current leadership of the Committee. And thus, something must be done to deal with the situation."

"All this is none of their concern," the chairman of the Committee said abruptly.

"It is when you're asking them to die for you, and the cause is no longer worthy," Cleburne shot back.

Esther continued on, "Also - Dr. Irving Hollins had stated that he now has a lack of confidence in this Committee. It certainly appears that he will follow the example of the field ops, and refuse to follow your directives. Gentlemen, it's easy to give orders, but when no one will obey them...as the Chinese would put it, you have lost the Mandate of Heaven."

Rumsfeld walked to the head of the table. "She's right. You people, I believe your services are no longer required. Pack up your cloak and daggers, and get out," he said as he examined the members of the Committee with disdain.

One or two of the members looked ready to object at that statement. However, the Chairman looked around and sighed in defeat.

"As you wish. And I truly hope you will not have cause to regret this action," he said, then exited the conference room. The others followed after a few seconds, Cleburne scowling at them as they left.

Soon only Rumsfeld, Cleburne and Marcum were left. The Secretary looked at his two companions, "Well, we broke it. Now it's up to us to fix it."

**Caritas Karaoke bar, Los Angeles, California. February 9, 2001**

Angel entered the club, and made his way to the main bar. Lorne awaited him there, whilst polishing glasses.

It had been a hectic few days. Lorne had foreseen an upcoming apocalypse, when he'd read a geeky scientist called Gene Rainy within his establishment two nights back. Unfortunately though, he'd passed out before the lounge demon could learn who exactly the singer was...

And thus, he'd turned to the hero types to prevent the unexpected end of the world.

Angel and Darla had hit over 17 bars in one night, looking for a needle in a haystack. It was hard work, and the rest of their crew couldn't help; they were all busy trying to solve a murder, involving a Wainakay demon...

But fortunately, the two ensouled vamps had overcome the Lubber demons trying to kill them, and prevented Gene from inadvertently destroying the planet.

So, now somewhat weary, Angel sat down on a stool and looked at Lorne.

"Hey there, Angel-cakes. I take it from your presence, the world isn't gonna go kaflooey after 10 o'clock tonight? Well, congratulations, the Dark Avenger has done it again! Want something to drink? It's on the house..." Lorne asked.

"Pig's blood," Angel said simply.

Lorne poured a glass of the requested beverage, and handed it to the vampire with a soul. Angel took a drink, and then placed the glass on the bar.

"Okay, next time there's an emergency like that? That excuse that you've got a business to run, isn't gonna cut it!" Angel grumbled.

Lorne half-chuckled. "Whatever you say, sweetie. And now that the excitement's over, I've got something to give to you."

"What?" the Champion asked, taking another sip of blood.

"Few nights ago, an old friend of yours came and went. Plus, he sang and my head didn't blow up! He goes by a new name now, too. Alexander Hall is no more, he's Alexander Howard these days..."

Angel blinked his eyes in surprise, as he processed what Lorne had just said. "Xander was in town?" he said softly to himself.

Lorne raised an eyebrow at that. "A third name for the lambchop, huh? That boy needs a playbill, so he can remember what name he's going by for each performance..."

Angel leaned in close. He knew that threats to get information from the Host wouldn't work. So he decided to simply ask, "How was he?"

Lorne paused a second. "Pretty good...considering."

"Considering what?" Angel asked.

Lorne shook his head. "Not my story to tell, honeybun. However, he did leave something for you with Ametila, who passed it on to me..."

The Host reached under the bar, and produced a sealed envelope. Angel reached over, and saw that his name was written on the front of it.

"He said to give this to you. No doubt it'll explain what you need to know," Lorne explained. The he walked away, to give the vamp some privacy...even though the place was totally empty.

Angel nodded, and opened the envelope. He took quite a few sheets of paper out, and unfolded them. Then he settled into his seat, and started to read.

_Dear Deadboy,_

_I know, I know. Don't call you that! Still, I get so few chances to say it nowadays, I hope you'll forgive me my little indulgence here._

_Look, Angel, I need to tell ya some things. I'm not sure if my keepers would like the idea of me communicating with you, so that's why I'm giving this to Lorne for him to pass onto your vampire self, sub rosa style._

_Well, where to start? Okay, I've changed the future. Yes, I know that you know you already know that, but I've done some unexpected things recently that I gotta warn you about._

_Basically, it all started when the law firm of Wolfram & Hart abducted Faith's soul from Heaven. Yeah, you read that right. They stole her soul, and held it for ransom; for me to give myself up to them, and spill what I knew._

_You've no doubt realized by now, that I did *not* take that particular piece of news well. Not to worry, though; right now, Faith is permanently back in Heaven where she belongs. However, in order to make that happen...I had to go to a really nasty place called Pylea. _

_Not exactly a fun tourist spot for anyone human, I can tell you. Just ask Lorne about it._

_Anyway, while I was there I bumped into someone who - apparently - you were supposed to get to know really well. Woman called Fred Burkle. Well, her full name is Winifred Burkle; she was a slave there in Pylea, and had been for five years._

_Thing is she's a genius, on the scale of Willow-level smarts. And from what I've heard, bringing her into the fold was something very helpful to you..._

_You see, a few months from now, you were supposed to go to Pylea after Cordelia. In the future I remember, she got sucked into there by some sort of vortex or something. While there, you met Fred and saved her. She came back with you and the others, and joined up with Angel's Avengers._

_That's why I suggested to her that she move back to LA to hook up with you guys, but she seems determined to stay with me and Siberian Trip Wire. Well, I don't want to force her away as she has big abandonment issues; and you know perfectly well my feelings about *that* sort of thing!_

_Now look, I've told you before that I don't know much about what happens in Los Angeles, with you and your crew. All I knew from the first go-around was what Willow eventually told me, after her visits to you guys. And understandably, she concentrated on the end-of-the-world crisis of the moment, so I'm pretty sure there are adventures you have had, are having, and will have - that I know nothing about._

_All I'm saying is, I'm really hoping that I haven't totally messed up the future from letting Fred stay where she is. So, if anything comes up where you think there's a super-genius missing from your team that would have solved the problem, well - contact me through Lemke in Sunnydale, or Gwen Raiden there in LA, and one super-genius coming right up._

_By the way, did our beautiful young thief get to you all right? 'Cause when I figured out Gwen was now getting Cordy's visions, I thought it'd be best if she got to know you all a lot better. She also has the whole Electra Girl thing going for her, so that might make it a bit easier on her to survive that so-called gift..._

_Okay, that reminds me, I have a confession to make. When I was a captive in Pylea, there were these demons that were torturing the shit outta me to talk; think in terms of that guy Holtz you once told me about, who tortured you during the late 1700s. Anyway, I had a chance to think in between the whippings, beatings, hot pokers and other assorted fun stuff..._

_Plus I had four very interesting dream encounters with Anya, Willow, Buffy and Cordelia. And from what Dream Cordy said...I now think that someone or something was manipulating the situation during the original history, right from the start, when it comes to my ex and her 'gift'. _

_See, I know from Lorne's reading of me that Cordy would have died during 2004, after becoming your seer. And *something* wanted that to happen to Cordelia; well, maybe not for her to die per se, but it wanted her twisted and suffering..._

_And now, Gwen's getting the visions as well, and she could very well be a target for that too. Both Gwen and Cordy will need watching. I know that you'll do everything in your power to protect them; just please, be careful._

_As I said, I don't who or what it was, if I did - me and several close friends would be paying it a visit. So, you need to keep an eye out for *anything* which might fit the bill. If you come across it and need or want some help, just ring._

_Heck, even if you don't need help, call me anyway. 'Cause I want a piece of its ass, to be honest. It's out to hurt one of my girls, and I'm not gonna just let that slide!_

_Speaking of which...I want for you to also keep an eye on Dawn, back in Sunnydale. _

_I know you don't keep in close touch with the Hellmouth crowd anymore, well - you didn't in that other world, anyway. But the thing is, while I was trying to get Faith's soul back...I had an über-strange out of body experience. During which, I was talking to the one and only Dawn Summers._

_Now, it wasn't a dream or anything like that. I've had a chance to catch up with what the Scooby gang's been doing for the last two years, and what Dawn told me then...she knew things I couldn't possibly have known at the time. Basically, it was kind of like the Vulcan mind-meld thing from Star Trek; you know, mystical crap that as long as it works - you don't care too much about the details._

_And I'm not sure if you know, but Dawn is a special situation also. Call Giles to explain it to you, but don't let on that I'm still alive. I'm not sure how that knowledge would affect him. Just...look out for Dawnie as best you can. Strange things will happen around her. Well - stranger than you would normally expect for Sunnydale, at any rate._

_Hey, how's everyone in LA doing? Charlie and the others are all right, I hope. Also, how's Darla going? Is she pregnant with Connor now? Like I said, he was supposed to be born around the end of the year, and if your sire isn't expecting yet...well, there isn't that much time left! Anyway, take care of her too, and if and when you get the chance - speak kindly of Uncle Xander to your son for me._

_I'll try to get in touch more often. The people I'm with, they may loosen up a bit from now on when it comes to me interacting with the real world - it's part of the fallout from the situation with Faith's soul. But I *will* meet up with you again, when and where we planned. That I promise._

_Take care, buddy._

_Xander_

_P.S. If you get the chance, make life miserable for a lawyer named Lilah Morgan; she works for Wolfram & Hart. She was also the one who kidnapped Faith's soul from its heavenly reward. I intend to get some quality payback on her and her good buddy Lindsey MacDonald one day, but until then - you should put Angelus's creativity to good use._

Angel folded the letter back into the envelope, and placed his head in his hands. {Oh hell, he's done it to me again.}

The vampire thought briefly about all that he'd learned. {Okay, let's see. Fred Burkle. Cordy. Gwen. Dawn. Darla. For God's sake, what's he trying to do? Make me into some sort of half-assed white knight - that constantly saves the damsel in distress? That's *Xander's* job! }

Angel then looked at Lorne, who came over back to the bar. "Tell me what happened," the Champion said.

Lorne took a big gulp of his Hawaiian seabreeze, before he replied. "Well, your little buddy really came through in the end..."

**An isolated castle, somewhere in the Swiss Alps. February 10, 2001**

The creature often known as the Immortal stared into the chamber.

He appreciated the finery and luxury of the room. With his dark past, that was unavoidable. However, his attention was quickly drawn to the other occupant present.

The former Bloody Countess of Hungary; the incredibly beautiful vampire named Elizabeth Bathory.

"My dear Elizabeth. It's such a pleasure to see you again," the Immortal said as he approached her, oozing charm and grace. The tall and dark-haired guy reached down to the couch she was occupying, and took her hand. He then kissed it tenderly...

"You can forget that game of trying to seduce me. I am not one of your conquests, l'Eterno," she said in a pleasant voice, her use of his Italianized name not quite hiding the iron in the female vamp's tone.

The Immortal sensed that Bathory would not easily fall for his charms, if at all. "My dear Elizabeth, you wound me! You know that I've always viewed you as an equal. A worthy colleague, to be treated with respect."

Bathory eyed the Immortal as she withdrew her hand, and grabbed a wineglass. "Respect from you - has always been something I've never greatly desired," the Bloody Countess said, as she sipped from the glass. "Understanding and compliance with my wishes is what I want."

The Immortal sat down at the other end of the couch from Bathory. He frowned, "You're not still harboring ill will over that...misunderstanding from over 100 years ago, are you?"

"Which one? Your little threesome with those two whores, Darla and Drusilla? And with regard to that, I have to say - it's no *wonder* Angelus and William the Bloody hate you..."

"No, no. I meant our...altercation in Austria. I had no idea that my expansion into the underworld of Vienna would cause you such trouble! If I had known-"

"You would have done a much more subtle job of it," Bathory finished cynically.

The Immortal pondered his response for a second, before deciding to say, "Yes, I suppose I would have been more subtle in my actions, but to be honest - I still would have proceeded with the task. You know as well as I do, Elizabeth, that the potential rewards far outweighed the risks!"

"Well, I'm sure that you thought so at the time," Bathory observed. "However, we are not here to review your past mistakes. We have far more pressing concerns! I'm sure that you know of recent events, involving the human governments of the mortal world?"

L'Eterno nodded. "Oh yes, it's been all the news lately from the demon underground. Some of my compatriots lost quite a bit of money and prestige, after recent events in Philadelphia. They're angry, and want some form of retribution."

Bathory sighed, an action that only served to emphasize any physical beauty. "Of course they would, they haven't thought things through. Any form of action which is not decisive, will only lead to reprisals by the humans! Inadequate preparation leads to disastrous results..."

The Bloody Countess put down the empty wineglass, and clapped her hands. A servant appeared from one of the doors leading into the chamber and hurriedly replaced the empty glass with a full one, then fled the chamber.

The Immortal idly wondered if it was wine in there, or something more fitting for a vampire. "What do you suggest, my dear?" he asked, earning a glare from the former mass murderer of Hungary.

"We need to know more about our new adversaries. This Timetripper I have heard of, he clearly needs to be dealt with. However, he's not the only one; this so-called Wizard that seems to also give the humans an edge. That one too must die."

"And what of the Slayer?" her companion asked.

Bathory smiled, an expression of pure evil. "Which one? It doesn't matter, though; she's not a long-term concern. The Watchers have never really addressed any problem in a manner beyond of taking the view that if the sun rises tomorrow, their work is done. If you do not do anything to attract their attention, they are not a problem."

"And the renegade Slayer in California?"

"As our dear recently-departed friend Dracula learned to his dismay, she is...a formidable foe. However, she seems to not stray far from her abode. She and the other Slayer will conform to the pattern that has always existed for the Chosen..."

The woman gestured. "No, these new players on the scene are what seem to be the problem. Altering the balance between our world, and the human one. Also...they're liable to come looking for *us*, eventually; so it's best we figure out how to deal with them before that time arrives."

"So we spy on them, then? Skulk in the shadows?" the Immortal asked with an amused grin.

Bathory nodded. "For now, yes. We also make...alliances."

"With who?"

Bathory responded, by clapping her hands again. The servant came through the door. "Show in our other guest!" she commanded.

The servant hurried to comply with her order. He returned a few seconds later, followed by a tall, dark-faced man. The Immortal immediately noted what was considered his ring finger, the third one. It was longer than his middle finger.

It took the Immortal a moment to place where that particular distinctive feature manifested itself. He then turned to Bathory, "My dear Elizabeth, you certainly don't believe in doing things by half-measures - do you?"

**North Atlantic shoreline, Massachusetts. February 11, 2001**

Xander shivered and pulled his coat tighter against him, to try and ward off the bitter cold coming from the ocean. Nearby, Oz and Fred did the same.

The fact was that the brunette physicist had had an...interesting few days, recently. Fred had sent a letter home to her parents, saying that she was safe and well - after five years of silence. And when it arrived in Texas, Roger and Trish Burkle were more than a little astonished to hear from their presumed-dead daughter.

The two middle-aged people had come to Virginia, and tracked down their child; as she had been staying with Oz and Xander, in their apartment. And as soon as she'd encountered them on the street...Fred had freaked.

Because it had then hit her beyond any shadow of a doubt, that her years of slavery and abuse in Pylea weren't some romantic fairy tale that her white knight - Xander - had rescued her from. They had been all too real and ugly, and that Drokken had come within an inch of snuffing out her life...

In any case, Roger and Trish had then tried to convince their daughter to come home, but Fred would have none of it. Xander had had to step in, and promise her parents that she would be well taken care of; anything she would need, the U.S. government would provide. And finally, the Burkles had gone home - just glad that their offspring was all right now.

Well, maybe 'all right' was too loose a term. Because Fred had been put into therapy with STW's psychiatrists, but Harris suspected that that wouldn't last too long; Ms. Burkle was a survivor, after all.

Just like him...

Getting back to the present - she, Xander and Oz were all from warmer climates than the one they were in now, and so weren't handling the chill all that well. Cleburne also visibly shivered from the cold.

"So why did you bring us here?" Xander asked the Marine colonel. "I thought you liked to spend the winter months south of the Mason-Dixon line!"

"I do, hate going where it snows so much that it isn't a special occasion when it happens! However, we're here for a very specific reason," the Marine replied.

"To reintroduce me to cold weather?" Fred asked.

Cleburne chuckled, and shook his head. "No, we came here to tell you the secret."

"The secret?" Xander asked.

"Yep. Seems to me that if I'm going to get you to trust us, you should know our secrets. So, this is the place where it all started."

"What, the Russians tried to slip an A-bomb ashore here?" Xander asked.

"No, this is where Uncle Sam got into the business of dealing with the things that go bump in the night. Where the basic premise for what Siberian Trip Wire is involved with today, was conceived."

That had the effect of drawing the full attention of Cleburne's audience as he continued, "Back in 1927, the Secret Service office in Boston had a crazy man stumble into their building, muttering something about demons and magic. Everyone thought he was completely off his rocker, of course..."

A smirk. "Except for the agent who had gone to college with him, and had had lunch with him four days before. He started asking questions, and following up the situation."

Cleburne laughed softly. "That was back in the days of Prohibition, you see. Initially, they thought they had stumbled across an illegal liquor-smuggling operation. 'Course, they had found something more."

"Imagine their surprise," Oz commented dryly.

Cleburne chuckled. "Oh yeah, quite shocking too for the Elliott Ness wannabes who investigated it. They ran home as quick as they could to whistle up some reinforcements, which happened to come from the U.S. Navy and Marine Corps. The Boston Navy Yard was the closest source of heavy firepower. Once everything got sorted out, we came a-calling here."

"Here?" Fred asked in her Texan accent.

Cleburne smiled at that. Because he genuinely enjoyed hearing another accent, from the former Confederate States of America. "Yes, indeed. The site we're standing on right now used to be a bustling fishing town, called Innsmouth."

"Used to be? What happened?" Xander asked.

"A full battalion of United States Marines, among other things," Cleburne replied. "During the February of 1928, the first modern-day men in black blitzed the entire town. Treasury agents, Secret Service, agents from the U.S. Bureau of Investigation - including a young J. Edgar Hoover - and U.S. Marines with elements from the U.S. Navy offshore rolled into town one fine day, and surprised the rulers of the town."

"Demons," Oz said succinctly.

"Yeah, although at first it was thought at first they were some kind of aquatic monsters that were scouting us out for invasion." Cleburne shrugged at the look he was getting from the others. "Hey, come on - it was the 1920s! Let's keep things in perspective here..."

The Marine then continued, "Anyways, the enemy put up a fight, but to be honest - they weren't ready to deal with such an organized attack. The one real stronghold they had was dealt with by offshore bombardment by the Navy. And by the end of the day, they were done."

"And then what happened?" Xander prompted.

"Then we started to figure out what we really had. Demons, from the ocean - but demons nonetheless."

"From the ocean?" Xander asked, recalling something from his junior year of high school. He shared a quick look with Oz, who nodded once as he too recalled the swim team incident.

Cleburne absently noted how those two seemed almost to converse without words. Then he said, "Yep, some kind of merman. We never really understood how they came to be, but there was some way that they could turn humans into one of them. It's one of the things we keep asking them about."

"Keep asking them? Some of them are still in custody?" Oz asked.

"Oh, yeah. We built a holding facility in New Mexico for them, as far from water as possible. I mean, these guys are like hell on wheels if they get to water, or even near it. Caused some problems, shortly after they were captured. Problem is, the longer they're out of the water the more lethargic they get. By now, they're almost all comatose - which makes the questioning part kinda difficult."

"One day - remind me to tell you all about my high school swim team incident, back in Sunnydale. It might help answer some of your questions," Xander remarked.

Cleburne mentally filed away Xander's remark, as Fred spoke up. "Wasn't there a book, or-or story about all this?"

Cleburne smiled. "Yes, there was. H.P. Lovecraft wrote a short story, which more-or-less described the incident. We didn't prevent him from doing so - since if the secret ever got out, we would have plausible deniability and argue that they were just thinking of the book in question!"

Cleburne paused, and then started speaking again. "Well, several branches of the government quickly figured out that all this was something we needed to keep an eye on. So, they basically networked amongst themselves. Nothing formal, no official organization..."

"No secret decoder rings or handshakes?" Xander asked with a little bit of a smirk.

"No, nothing as fancy as that. Just a bunch of government men who knew what to call upon, if something strange popped up," Cleburne explained.

"And this group became Siberian Trip Wire?" Oz asked.

"No. When Siberian Trip Wire was formed, those in the know realized that they could burrow into it and utilize the resources available to it. Hide ourselves within another secret, basically."

"Why didn't you people do more?" Xander asked again.

"Hey! We did do some things. Nothing on the level we're contemplating now, though, granted. Because to be honest, the world of the undead seemed to avoid the world of espionage and counter-terrorism," Cleburne explained. "There were also others who were fighting the demons. The Watchers with their Slayer and wet works teams, the Catholic Church and quite a few independent players. But we were the only ones dealing with the communists and terrorists."

Cleburne actually shuffled his feet a little bit. "I know," he said, as he headed off Xander's unspoken retort. "Still, we were fighting our war while the others were fighting theirs. Kind of like the difference between the European and Pacific fronts, during World War 2."

Fred suddenly spoke up. "What did you call yourselves?" she asked.

"Nothing specific. However, back in the 1940s, the phrase 'Delta Green' started to make the rounds for our little secret organization. And it seemed as good as anything else to call themselves, back then..."

**Dirksen Senate Office Building, Washington D.C. February 12, 2001**

"The Senator will see you now."

Esther Marcum stood up, in response to the announcement from the Senate aide. She then followed the youthful aide through the office suite. As the black woman approached her objective, the door to the main office, she heard one of the secretaries on the phone trying to make plane reservations to Indianapolis.

The aide held the door open for her. "Senator. Esther Marcum to see you," he announced and then closed the door.

"Esther. How nice to see you again," the silver-haired Senator said, as he shook her hand and beckoned for her to sit down.

Esther took the offered seat. "Thank you, Senator. And thank you also for seeing me on such short notice," she replied.

"Nonsense. Besides, I knew it had to be important for the Committee to send you all the way over to this part of town," he said, as the patrician took the seat across from her.

"Actually, sir, that's part of the reason why I came. The Committee has had...quite the shakeup in its ranks, recently."

The Senator raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh dear. Nothing serious, I hope?"

"Quite serious, actually. That's why I'm here."

**Two hours later**

Esther exited the Senator's office, happy that the meeting had gone as well as could be expected.

The Senator had at first been shocked by Esther's revelations. However, he had quickly come to accept what had happened - and more importantly, he had agreed to join the Committee. Esther was hopeful that the procurement of new blood to the group would avoid the insularity that had plagued the Committee for the last few months.

{Guess Monsignor Bentallo had a point, after all. We *could* become like the Council, if we're not careful.}

She made her way through the office suite into the hallway. And as the official turned the corner, she almost ran straight into a middle-aged woman with several aides hanging alongside her. "Pardon me," Esther said.

"No problem, I should really watch where I'm going..." the middle-aged woman said with fake sincerity. Showing no trace of her annoyance, Esther just continued down the hallway - as Senator Helen Brucker of California resumed her trip.

Once she was out of earshot of any listeners not in the know, Brucker spoke to her aide. "I need you to follow up on the rumors we've heard. Something's happened, call the LA branch of Wolfram & Hart-"

"Ma'am, they're still not returning anyone's phone calls," the aide said politely.

"Well, *make* them return your calls! That damn law firm is supposed to be helping me out," the soulless demon in a human body semi-growled. "And I can't afford to disappoint that undead bitch, Bathory. On account of those who *do* disappoint her somehow vanish, and I can't get into the White House during 2008 if I'm dead!"

**The USS Wasp, Norfolk Navy Yard, Norfolk. February 14, 2001**

Early that morning, Major Hixon made his way down the hangar deck towards his Harrier jump jet. As he approached it, the crewmen around it parted so that the pilot could see what they had been working on.

"Major," the crew chief greeted the flyer. "It's finally done. Took a little doing, but we finally got it done!"

Hixon approached the plane and looked at the fuselage, right below the canopy. He nodded his head appreciatively, "Who the hell did you get to paint it?"

"Dennison, down in the mess hall. He paints in his spare time, and once he heard what we needed? Well, if we hadn't had let him do it, it would have been bad - in terms of the meals for the next six months! And personally, I think he did a good job..." The crew chief paused for a second. "Ah, what are you going to do when people see it and ask questions?"

Hixon chuckled. "Just smile and say I like it. Goes with my new callsign, after all."

Indeed, beneath the canopy it was spelled out _Major Arthur "Dragonslayer" Hixon_. And below that was the painting of a dragon, signifying that Major Hixon was one-fifth of the way to being an ace - when it came to fighting dragons in aerial combat.

**Fort Meade, Maryland. Later that morning**

Xander suppressed a yawn, as he leaned back in the chair within the conference room. He then idly wished that he hadn't turned down that cup of coffee, that the guard who had escorted him here had offered him...

But then the opening of the door interrupted his longings for caffeine.

Colonel Cleburne entered, dressed in military uniform. "Morning, kid. Sorry I'm running a little late, but I had to make sure everything was all set up right."

Xander raised an eyebrow. "So, you dragged me over here and I'm guessing it's for another chapter of 'I have a secret'?" he remarked.

Actually, in the past few days, Xander had learned more and more about the secrets of this branch of the U.S. government that he'd been a guest of the past few years. Some of it had been mundane - Xander really didn't care which Russian ambassador had multiple Swiss bank accounts - but other parts of the tale had shocked the former Scooby.

A former Vice-President had been a demon? No wonder Nixon had never been assassinated...

Cleburne just smiled at Xander's remark. "Oh, yeah. Now before we start, kid? I need you to understand that this particular secret, it's a big one. It's one of the holiest of holies in STW's pantheon. We all gotta keep this one under our hats, and I need you to do the same. Not even Wolfie can know about this-"

Xander made a face, and Cleburne hastened to explain. "Kid, I'm serious; not even Gunny or Red know about this one. Hell, *I* didn't know until I took over as director of field ops! There are men who've served as President of the United States, who've never even had an inkling it ever existed."

Xander thought for a second. "Does Irving know the big secret?"

Joshua fidgeted. "He does, although sometimes I wish he didn't."

Xander just looked at his companion as Cleburne hastened to explain, "I told him about it, a couple of years ago. But the problem was - it was too juicy a topic for the Wizard. He started working on it quite a bit, too much actually. Other problems got shoved onto the back burner, things that were more relevant - so to speak. So in the end, Esther and I had to have a sit down with Hollins and convince him not to obsess about it so much. He agreed, but we still have to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn't get obsessed with the secret again."

Harris thought about this. And then nodded his head. "Okay. I can keep your secret. Still, I'm not sure why you're so worked up about this; after all, we're dealing with end-of-the-world type things, and not much tops that-"

"You'd be surprised," Cleburne remarked, as he picked up the telephone at the end of the table. "This is Colonel Joshua Cleburne. Authorisation, Sky-Blue-Georgia-Rain. Bring in the package..." He placed down the phone.

After a few seconds, the door opened up and an officer carrying a stainless steel attaché case escorted by two armed guards walked in. The Marine faced Cleburne and saluted, "Sir. Requesting identification?"

Cleburne showed the officer his identification papers. The courier scrutinized them for a few seconds, and then handed the ID back. "Thank you, sir. I now request verification..."

The officer laid the attaché case down on the table. He then pushed a button, and revealed a triple LED panel that was lit red. Cleburne leaned down and placed his thumb on the center panel. His thumbprint was scanned - and after a few seconds, the color changed to green and the sounds of the attaché case being unlocked could be heard.

"Thank you, sir. You know the rules, no copying or note taking is allowed. And we'll be right outside to retrieve it as soon as you're done." With that, the military officer and the guards left the room.

"What, no DNA or sperm sample offerings?" Xander asked, as Cleburne opened up the case and took out a DVD.

"Don't get cocky, kid..." Cleburne replied grouchily, as he walked to the DVD player next to the television mounted on the wall. "Now, you'll probably recognize Ike - I mean, President Eisenhower. The original footage of this was shot during 1954, at Edwards Air Force Base in California..." Cleburne turned on the DVD player, as the lights dimmed automatically.

Almost a minute went by before Xander whispered softly, "Holy *shit*!"

**MacDill Air Force Base, Tampa, Florida. The same time**

The Air Force pilot saluted his superior officer, who had summoned him. "General Franks. Major Reynolds reporting as ordered, sir!"

The General returned the salute from the officer. "At ease, Major. Now, Secretary Rumsfeld called this morning. He had some orders for me, and I'm putting you in charge of getting our response together."

"Yes, sir! What is the timetable, sir?"

"He wants something as soon as possible, but the finished product won't be necessary until sometime this summer. You'll have time to properly prepare, I promise. Also, whatever resources or intelligence you'll need will be made available to you."

"Yes, sir! If I may ask what is it we need to do, sir?"

"Oh, that's the fun part. Ya see, Major, we need to draw up plans to do something that no one's been able to do, ever since the time of Alexander the Great. Invade Afghanistan, and win..."

**CIA headquarters, Langley, Virginia. Later that morning**

"Good morning."

The bearded man looked up from his desk, at the middle-aged black woman who had just greeted him. "Good morning," he said in reply. "Can I help you?"

"Mr. Scheuer, I'm here to talk to you about returning to your old stomping grounds. I know how and why you resigned from the bin Laden task force here at the Company, a while back; internal politics, and all that. However, I thought you might want to take another shot at the gentleman in question. Because we're getting ready to do something about him, and his cohorts."

The bearded man's face slowly broke out into a broad smile. "Tell me more..."

**Chicago, Illinois. Later that morning**

"Oh, my precious Spoike. The stars - they're moving, shifting 'n changing ever so much they are! My kitten, that naughty little wicked kitty cat - he's done so much that we 'ave to stop," Drusilla said, as she circled around the abandoned warehouse floor.

Spike stood off to the side, watching his beloved. This was nothing new; Dru walking around talking to herself was pretty much old hat, after a century of bliss together. Apart from that nasty little episode with Angelus and Darla, of course...

Still, it had been happening more and more often over the past few months. Spike idly thought to himself that ever since Angelus had tried to open Acathla and end the world, thankfully Dru had been a lot less nuttier than before. But ever since their recent trip to Los Angeles, well - it had been nothing but nonstop Fruitcake City.

He stepped forward to try and reason with her. "Princess, ya need to calm down. On account of I've got a special night planned, 'n all..."

Dru turned her attention back to Spike. "A special night? For me, my special poet?"

Spike smiled and nodded, as Dru was the only one he allowed to speak of his former human existence that way. "Oh yeah, luv. A special night, just for you. It's Valentine's Day today; so tonight will be full of lovers off in their own li'l dream world, and havin' a gay old time of it. And the blood of those kind o' Happy Meals tastes completely fantastic, remember?"

"Fantastic? You mean sweet?" Dru asked in childlike innocence.

"The sweetest, ducks. Even better than a Slayer's!" Spike replied with a grin.

Dru smiled. "The Slayer, she sits and weeps. So angry too, she is. And Daddy won't like that! Still - the Angel-beast is lost to us now, 'im and Grandmother. But there's much more to come, Spike. The stars, they tell me so..."

**Weatherly Park, Sunnydale, California. Lunchtime**

Jonathan Levinson reached down, and took a piece of cheese out of the picket basket. "Hey, Amy. I'm sorry I can't get you more - but y'know, considering your condition, I don't want to overfeed you or whatever..." He quickly reached over, and put the cheese through the bars of the cage that the rat formerly known as Amy Madison was sitting in.

The rodent version of Amy sniffed for a few seconds at the cheese, and then came over and took the piece in her mouth. She quickly retreated to the center of the cage, whereupon she started to eat her meal.

"Yeah, uh, I hope you like this. 'Cause it's good for you to get outside every once in a while, right? I'm sorry you have to stay inside the cage, but I really can't risk you running into a hungry cat or something. Because, dead rat Amy would be a bad thing..."

Jonathan took a drink from the soda he had brought with him, as the noontime California sun warmed his small body. "I imagine you wanna work on your tan? Betcha you don't get much chance to do so in Willow's room..."

The truth was the male Slayerette was grateful that Willow had agreed to his taking Amy on a picnic lunch today. Because he had missed her human self.

Amy had been nice to him in high school - well, granted, 'nice' was a strictly relative term. Because that part of his life was a nightmare best left forgotten! Ms. Madison hadn't tried to ridicule and harass him, anyway, and she'd seemed to understand him the few times they'd spoken.

Jonathan knew that she'd had a rough time of it herself, after all - her mother had switched bodies with her, and held her captive in her own home. Then there had been that business with Xander's crazy love spell! And when Amy had vanished back in 1999, Levinson had been secretly concerned and looked for her - her absence being one of the things that had led to his suicide attempt back then.

Now she was back, but in animal form.

For the time being.

Jonathan was continuing his magic studies, trying to learn how to turn Amy back to normal. And until he and the others figured out how to do that, well - all he could do was make her life as pleasant as possible.

Thus, the picnic in the park today. Jonathan had packed light; after all, he couldn't exactly pack a full meal for his companion.

Levinson checked his watch; he had class back on campus in an hour or so. So as much as he hated to do it, it was time to wrap up the picnic. Jonathan hurriedly packed up the lunch, then he stood up and leaned over to pick up Amy's cage.

"Come on, Amy. Time for you to head on home; I'm sorry it couldn't be longer. But don't worry, before long it will be - and you'll have the two feet you were born with to walk around on the grass..."

**Sunnydale Junior High School. Later that afternoon**

"Hey, Dawn."

Dawn Summers looked up from her locker, to see Kevin Berman standing there. She smiled broadly in return, "Kevin! It's, it's so great to see you..."

The young girl was suddenly so nervous, that she dropped her books. Kevin leaned down to get them for her, at the same time Dawn bent down too; and so, the two teenagers butted heads sharply.

"OW!" they then both exclaimed, as the boy and the girl instantly moved away from each other.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Dawn quickly said desperately.

"It's okay, I promise..." Kevin looked around nervously, rubbing his head. "Uh - your sister isn't picking you up again after school, is she?"

Somewhat understandably, ever since that time under the football field bleachers - Kevin had been more than a little skittish concerning Dawn's older sibling. After all - seeing an aluminum bleacher stand bent in half right in front of your eyes, by a woman barely a few years older than you, will do that.

Dawn picked up her books and stuffed them into her bag, as she hurriedly reassured her nascent boyfriend. "No! Don't worry. One of her friends is picking me up today, Buffy's helping at Mom's gallery this afternoon."

At that, Kevin visibly lightened up. "Good! No, I mean..." He paused, as if uncertain what to say. "Look, Dawn...I, I like you. I mean, I really do. And to be honest - I've been going crazy lately, not being able to spend any time with you! So since this is Valentine's Day and all, I have something for you..." Kevin pulled a small rectangular box out of his knapsack, and handed it to Dawn.

Dawn quickly opened it, and her eyes lit up when she saw what was inside. She squealed in delight, "Oh my God - I love it! It's beautiful!"

The female teen took the heart-shaped pendant out, and quickly placed it around her neck. She then hugged Kevin tightly, "Thank you. Thank you, Kevin, you're the greatest!"

"You're welcome, Dawn. I mean, I thought you'd like something nice; 'cause, in class, you've seemed kinda down recently," Kevin explained.

Which was perfectly true. These days, Dawn was experiencing the typical angst of being a southern Californian teenager. And normally, this would be bad enough; however, the young girl had several additional problems that most female hormone bombs like herself didn't have.

Vampires, a big sister who was the vampire Slayer, a cult of Monty Python knight wannabes and the big one - in the history that would have happened, her mother was supposed to die in precisely one week.

That was enough to definitely put Ms. Summers in a depressed mood.

Dawn just smiled at Kevin's thoughtfulness now, though. "Honey, that's so sweet - I mean, with everything going on with my mom, I really need some sunshine in my life-"

Kevin blinked. "You called me 'honey'."

Dawn blinked in return. "I did?"

Kevin nodded. "You did."

Dawn thought hurriedly for a second. "Well, um, you are. Kevin Berman, you're definitely 'honey' material."

Kevin thought for a second. "That mean we're officially dating now, Ms. Summers?" he asked hopefully.

Dawn smiled. "We'll talk about it on the way to class. Come on-"

Young Mr. Berman looked around, and saw that all of the kids nearby had already gone to their next class. So giving in to temptation, he grabbed Dawn tightly and planted his lips firmly on hers.

Stumbling against the lockers, the two crazy kids kissed, and kissed, and kissed. But finally the guy let go, and a dazed Dawn Summers eventually saw Kevin grinning at her like an idiot. "Ohhhhh..." the brunette Key felt her knees trembling. {Wow! That was, like, majorly awesome smoochies!} "Class?"

Hand in hand, Dawn and Kevin walked off down the hallway.

And neither teenager saw a scowling Kirsty further up the corridor, glaring at them both. "That bitch..."

**The private office of Lilah Morgan, Wolfram & Hart building, Los Angeles. The same time**

"Be careful, you morons! That desk is worth more than any of you could possibly make for the next ten years. If you so much as scratch it, I'll have your hides nailed to a barn door! And I mean that literally!" Lilah growled at the workmen, who were finishing up the final repairs to her office.

The damage from the attack on the building had taken quite a bit of time to repair, unfortunately. In fact, several of the elevators were still out of commission. What with a *tank* having invaded the evil law firm, and all...

Lilah's office had gotten off relatively lightly, compared to the other parts of the building. The main problem had been getting the bloodstains off her desk, from when the psychic had been shot by the attackers.

And what with everything else that had happened over the past few weeks, Lilah had only now been able to get around to replacing the desk - the stains having proven resistant to everything Lilah had tried to get rid of them.

Still, the attorney was just thankful that the desk was the main thing she had lost as a result of that attack.

Others hadn't been so lucky.

The Senior Partners had not been happy with the results of that fiasco. Which was why they had sent their liaison out on a fact-finding mission, or in other words - look for a scapegoat to be blamed for it all.

And Nathan Reed had neatly fit the bill.

After all - he *had* told the government about Xander Harris being in Pylea, torture or not. This had led to Pylea being visited by the U.S. military, which had really upset the Wolf, Ram and Hart. The demon dimension having become a hostile human stronghold nowadays, did *not* look good in the quarterly reports.

Nathan Reed's screams as he had been sucked upwards into that portal, were still *vivid* in Lilah's mind. And Ms. Morgan was determined to do everything possible to avoid ever being in the position where *she* would end up screaming like that.

Still, office politics had gone into full swing with Reed's 'reassignment'. Lindsey MacDonald had thought he would get his long-awaited promotion...

But he hadn't. The CEO of this branch of the firm had sent in a new attorney to oversee Special Projects - namely, the one and only Linwood Murrow.

And he had made clear to everyone that this latest insult to Wolfram & Hart, would not go unavenged...

Lilah walked over to the window, and looked out at the Los Angeles skyline. She had no doubt that Xander Harris and those with him would be the subject of some intense attention from her bosses, before too long.

**UC Sunnydale, Sunnydale, California. Later that evening**

Amy ran in place on the treadmill in her cage, a small squeaking sound being the result. Tara looked at the rat, "I think the time she spent outside did Amy some good," she observed. "I mean, it was nice of Jonathan to take her out for lunch today."

Willow dried her hair with a towel, as she exited the shower servicing this part of the dorm hall. "I know. It was sweet. He's turned into quite a nice guy, I guess. And, y'know, I think he might be sweet on Amy."

That brought a smile to Tara's face. "Well, he really is determined to change her back into human form."

The two humans and Amy the rat quickly retreated back to their dorm room, as Willow sat down on the bed next to Tara. "So. How was your day, sweetie?"

"It was good, I guess. Oh - Melanie in Comparative Cultures got the professor all blustery, when she asked if the Aztec people were bad just because they ripped the still-beating hearts out of their human sacrifices. Professor Wardson...well, he looked like he was just about ready to pop a vein..."

Willow chuckled at that. After all, Wardson was one of her favorites. "I hope he didn't go too far out of his head. I've got him for class tomorrow, and he's kinda hard to understand on his best day!"

Tara smiled at that. "What?" Willow asked.

"Well, sweetie...you know how at times when you get excited, you get all babble-y and fast-talking? So fast that sometimes, you can't be understood by most people?"

"Most people?" Willow asked with a grin on her face.

"Well, I'm getting to the point where I can understand you, a-and Buffy seems to be able to. Other than that, almost no one else seems able to understand Willow-babble," Tara replied.

Willow's face clouded for a second, as many bad memories rose to the surface. "What?" Tara asked at once.

Willow shook her head. "Nothing, just thinking back to high school..." She then smiled at her lover. "So we have a special language between the two of us?"

Tara smiled sheepishly at Willow. "Oh, oh yes, just the two of us..."

Willow smiled, leaned over and passionately kissed her girlfriend. After a few minutes of intense making out, she leaned back. "Who says we can't communicate non-verbally?"

Tara smiled back at that. "Communications involve more than just talking," she said coyly.

Willow just grinned and leaned back into her girlfriend. "Then we have to make ourselves a connection..." she said, as she tossed a sweater over Amy's cage.

**Cleveland, Ohio. The same time**

Kennedy the vampire Slayer ducked under the punch thrown by the truly ugly bloodsucker she was facing, and quickly counterpunched into the gut of her opponent. The vampire grunted, and stumbled back into the alley wall.

She had been the Slayer now for nearly two years, which was a fairly impressive achievement for the lesbian. The average lifespan of a Slayer notwithstanding, she had taken to her calling like a fish to water under Zabuto's tutelage - and these days, the spoiled brat she'd once been had almost entirely disappeared from her persona, having gone through a baptism of fire as the Chosen One.

Kennedy quickly followed up her advantage with a kick to the vampire's head. And while the undead thing was groggy, she pulled out a stake and plunged it into her enemy's heart. She was rewarded with a column of dust falling to the ground.

"Okay, which one of you uglies is next?" Kennedy asked, as she turned around to face the four vampires at the mouth of the alley. {Damn. This could get tricky.}

Suddenly, two large booms echoed from behind the vampires. And two of the soulless bastards fell down, screaming in pain. Of the remaining two, one charged Kennedy while the other charged up the alley towards the source of the gunshots.

A vampire one on one with a Slayer was a much more equal contest. After the exchange of a few blows, and the vamp was distracted by the sounds of several more gunshots further up the alley, Kennedy gained the upper hand and staked his undead ass.

She then turned her attention to the other vampires. Kennedy quickly saw that there was only one left, and that a tall blonde woman was staking that one while the Slayer looked on.

The blonde straightened up and looked at Kennedy. "I was out for a walk, and saw that you got yourself into some trouble. Thought I might help out, so as to avoid having to put up with a new Slayer."

Kennedy's eyes narrowed at that. "Hey, lady, I was doing fine. Hell, I dusted two of them even before you showed up!"

Kate Lockley smiled at her companion. "Of course you did. Still, you should be more careful. Those two were sent to get you into a position where the other four could cut you off from any escape route. I think they wanted to kill a Slayer...and the people who sent me here wouldn't like that..."

Kate thought back to when she'd left Los Angeles, not long ago. It was two nights after she'd quit her job, rather than face the kangaroo court of the professional review board and Lt. Harlan.

She had then been surprised to get a visit from the man she'd met in Caritas, the night after the raid on that cult last July. Cleburne had said that he'd heard about her troubles with the LAPD, and hated that it had come to that.

Kate had made a crack about not hating it enough to stop it. Cleburne had just smiled and said she had better be sure to be on time for her new job, as the Cleveland Police Department didn't like for its detectives to be late for their first day of work.

A week later, Kate had been set up in Cleveland as an inspector. She had then gone looking for the Slayer in town, that Cleburne had mentioned. For Kate was now part of the loop for Siberian Trip Wire, at least the paranormal side of it.

Detective Lockley knew how to get in touch with Cleburne if things got out of hand, and she now also had access to all the toys that the Siberians did.

Which had just come in handy, in dealing with those vampires. And naturally, this had gotten Kennedy curious.

"So, how come that gun of yours managed to get the vamps really hurting? I thought vampires weren't bothered that much by bullets."

Kate smiled. She decided to take Cleburne's advice, and play up the 'mysterious stranger' angle with this girl. "Something the boys in the lab came up with. Be seeing you." Kate turned around, and started walking out of the alley.

"Hey, wait up!" Kennedy called after her. "Who the hell are you?"

"A friend," Kate didn't stop walking as she continued to chat.

Kennedy was now irritated, as well as mildly attracted to this blonde stranger. "What if I don't want a friend?"

"I didn't say I was *your* friend..." Kate remarked as she left the alley, and history started to repeat itself.

**Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles, California. Later that evening**

Cordelia Chase peered out at the lobby from behind her desk. Her work for the day had actually been finished off hours ago; the brunette was now just killing time, and hanging around the Hyperion. On account of she just didn't feel like going back to her Silverlake apartment.

Her roomy, comfy, rent-controlled, yet empty apartment...

Well, all right - Dennis was always there, and Cordy liked sharing her place with the ghost. But it just wasn't the same as having a real live person around. Say for example someone with chocolate brown eyes, delicious-tasting lips and one of the few ever able to keep up with her in their verbal sparring contests...

So these days Cordy spent more time than she normally would have at work, wanting to be around the others. As she enjoyed their company - even that of Gwen Raiden. Although at times, Cordelia felt herself getting very irritated at the thief.

Because Gwen carried herself as if she knew a huge and amusing secret around here, that she knew something that the others didn't. And Cordelia just found that *totally* infuriating.

The woman was off somewhere right now, and Cordy briefly imagined she was maybe stealing the Crown Jewels or whatever. Ms. Chase then wondered for a second if maybe one day, she could talk Gwen into stealing a little extra for her...

After all, Gwen definitely owed her. As Ms. Leather Pants Electricity Girl was gradually taking over the whole vision thing from Cordy; and the former seer still didn't know enough to be grateful for said fact.

Cordelia's attention was brought back to reality, as she heard Angel and Darla coming down the stairs. She knew that the two of them had been circling around each other for a while now, clearly wanting to become an item - but not taking the final step.

Well, that was hardly surprising. After all, they were the only two of their kind in this world, and held a centuries-long history together. Angel did have a thing for blondes, and Darla obviously wanted him too, the signs were clearly visible to the former cheerleader...

Not to mention, here they were walking down the stairs into the lobby holding hands.

It got so bad at times that Cordy wanted to bang their heads together, and yell at them. Tell the undead duo to go ahead, and take that final step.

But then, the memories of Angelus would always surface. And *that* was enough to bring Ms. Chase crashing back to the land of the sane. {Hmmm, maybe we should just chain Angel to the wall, let Darla screw his brains out, and then have Willow curse Angelus with a permanent soul? Nah, it'd never work. How can you have a moment of perfect happiness, while you're trapped in manacles? Okay, *so* not going there right now! }

"So, what are you two up to tonight?" Cordy called out.

Both Angel and Darla were clearly startled by her presence, even though they shouldn't have been. "You're still here?" Darla asked.

"Well, yeah! Someone has to make sure that things get done around this place. The money to run this business doesn't just appear magically every day, y'know! Although - couldn't we do that, Angel? There's gotta be some sort of spell around for that kind of thing, right? 'Cause it would *really* help with the 401(k) plans for the detective agency personnel. I mean, it's just not that easy planning for everyone's retirement, on what little we do bring in-"

"Cordy," Angel interrupted his secretary/personal assistant. "That wouldn't be right."

"Oh, sure - it wouldn't be right. But you admit that there's a way to do it, then?"

"Again, you're still here?" Darla repeated herself.

Cordy looked at the other ensouled vampire. "Well duh, I think I answered that one already!"

"I think what Darla means is, why aren't you out with that guy you were seeing recently? It's Valentine's Day after all," Angel said with a shrug.

"What are you implying, Angel? That I can't get a date? Hey, I'll have you know that I have *many* hot young studs wanting to go out with me! Calling me up, and begging me for a date! I just had more important things to do here tonight, that's all," Cordy replied heatedly. "And my question remains, what are you two doing?" She folded her arms in front of her, and stared down the two vampires.

"Patrolling," Angel said, a little too quickly.

Cordy sniffed the air. "Sure. And since when does Darla need to wear perfume, when you two go out on patrol? Oh, just admit it. You two are going out on the town tonight! TOGETHER!"

"We're just going to cruise a few clubs - to see what vampires are out there looking for victims," Darla explained.

Angel glanced at her, and then glanced away again. The truth was, Xander's latest letter last week had gotten him very confused - about what to do next.

He and Darla had talked a lot, ever since Spike and Dru had hit the road last month. Angel hadn't told her everything, but he had mentioned enough that it had caught Darla's interest - and when it had become obvious that the other two younger vampires were totally gone, it had been enough to not let the former whore simply walk into the sunlight.

Now, Darla didn't know about Connor, but Angel had talked about Xander to her - as well as tell her some details of the two letters the former Zeppo had written, with warnings about the future. And later, Darla had been stunned to realize that she'd actually met the so-called *timetripper* once; well, albeit only for a few moments, when Luke had fought Buffy in that mausoleum so many years ago...

But it was the topic of their son, that was Angel's main worry right now.

Because deep down, Angel wanted Connor to be born. To have a child - it was the one thing he'd always thought he'd never have, no matter how many centuries he walked the Earth in guilt-ridden perpetual unhappiness. The miracle of fatherhood.

But - did he have the right to throw the cosmic dice in such a way? To risk his son ending up in some hell world? To risk losing Darla somehow as well, by 2003?

Questions, questions...

Angel's attention was suddenly returned to Darla, talking to Cordy.

"-and I don't know why the hell you don't date more yourself. With that face and that body, you should have men constantly drooling and lusting after you! Well, actually, you *do* have men drooling over you. I've seen it before," Darla looked around conspiratorially.

"And I shouldn't say this, but you might want to join us at that new club we're going to tonight."

"Why?" Cordy asked with a confused look on her face.

"Well, that man Chuck from the gym - you know, the one that you go to - where Angel and I staked that gang of vampires stalking those gymnasts? I saw him the other day - and he asked after you."

Cordy suddenly brightened up at that. "He did?" She knew Chuck the aerobics instructor at her gym. And he was definitely drool-worthy, in Cordy's book.

"He was wondering if you were going out with anyone tonight. I told him I didn't know, but that we were all going to a club this evening - and that he might see you there."

"We're *all* going out tonight?" Angel asked, as always failing to keep up with the deviousness of the female mind.

"Well, Wesley said something about seeing if Virginia Bryce wanted to go to that club this evening," Darla replied.

"Darla, I don't think he intended to go out on patrol with her. He had a hard enough time just getting her to accept his phone calls again," Angel said.

"Still, he did mention that club-" Darla started to say.

"Hey, hey, let's focus on my issues here for a moment! Chuck is definitely going to be there?" Cordy asked, some of her old habits from high school reasserting themselves.

"Yes, and he'll be looking for you," Darla said.

Cordy smiled and clapped her hands. "Okay, then what the hell are we still doing here? Let's shake a leg, people! I mean, we'll have to stop by my apartment first; I can't let him see me like this! Come on, come on..." She quickly led the two vampires out the door.

**1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale, California. The same time**

"How about some more tea?" Buffy asked the two adults at the dining room table.

"No thanks, honey, I've drunk enough tea already. I almost feel like I'm floating," Joyce replied.

"Yes Buffy, I've had quite enough myself. We don't want to impose on you any further," Giles said, as he put down the cup of tea he had been drinking.

Buffy smiled and shook her head. "No imposition at all. 'Cause I enjoy spending time with my mother and my Watcher, y'know."

"But honey, it's Valentine's Day! You must have somewhere to go, and someone to see?" Joyce chided Buffy.

"I know, that's why I made the two of you this special meal-"

Giles and Joyce both glanced at Buffy for a moment. "Okay, I had the meal ordered in, but I chose everything in it!" the Slayer admitted as she started clearing the dishes from the table. "I thought it would be nice to do something for the both of you..."

Joyce smiled at that, as she stood up. "I know, Buffy, a-and we really appreciate it. However, let me clear off the table..." Both she and Giles started to clear off the dishes also.

"Maybe we could play Monopoly later, or-or watch a movie?" Buffy asked, just a little too perkily.

Giles and Joyce exchanged a look. "Buffy, you don't really want to spend all your free time with us older generation types, do you?" the Slayer's mother said.

"And what about patrolling?" Giles added. "The denizens of the night do need to be kept in check, you know."

"Come on, Giles, it's been like dead around here the past few months! Except for those Knight of the Round Table wannabes, and other than Dawn seeing one at the mall a while back - they've not been bothering us lately. I can go one night without making the tour of the weird parts of town!" She turned and looked at her mother. "And Mom, you're not old! I mean, you were *so* being hit on by that art dealer from San Francisco last week!"

Giles instantly looked at Joyce. "You were being hit on?"

"It was nothing, dear-" she replied at once.

"Dear? Wait-wait-wait, you call him 'dear' now?" Buffy interrupted in a high, squeaky voice. "When did this happen?"

"Honey, don't get so excited-" Joyce cautioned her eldest daughter.

"But he's Giles! I mean, okay, I can see fluke, but this calling him dear and he's acting all jealous from that dealer flirting with you? It doesn't take a rocket scientist, ya know, I know what you two are up to!"

Giles wisely stayed silent, as Joyce tried to calm her daughter. "Buffy, please. I mean, it's not like we don't have a history together - remember that time with the band candy?"

But this reminder of the past to Buffy did not have the desired effect. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" She clamped her hands to her ears. "No, no way, I do *not* want to hear this! You, you weren't yourselves that night!"

"Well, a-a-a-actually we were, our younger selves. B-b-but that doesn't change anything," Giles observed to himself as Buffy glared.

"We're all consenting adults here, sweetheart. There's no reason for you to get all worked up over it; Rupert and I just want to enjoy each other's company. You can understand that, can't you? It's just - we want some alone time tonight. Like right now, I mean - I arranged for Dawn to spend the night over at Lisa's, so we could have the house to ourselves for a while," Joyce explained to her daughter.

The look of horror spread over Buffy's face. "There are some things that a daughter should not hear from her mother. EVER! And that's one of them!" She looked wide-eyed at Giles. "Patrol. You're right, Giles, I need to get out there and slay. You, you have some suggestions, don't you?"

Giles nodded. "Elmhurst Cemetery. There's been a number of funerals there, the past week or so. Odds are there might be some-"

But he didn't get to finish as Buffy instantly left the dining room, grabbing her stake in the hallway and exiting the house. Joyce and Giles watched her go.

"She really needs to get laid."

Giles' head whipped around in sheer amazement, at Joyce's incredibly blunt statement.

"What? I'm just saying that I'm a woman, and I can recognize the signs Rupert; and that my daughter's wound up ridiculously tight," Joyce said in response.

**Richmond, Virginia. Not long before midnight**

Xander took another drink from his beer. After what he had been shown earlier today, he had decided to take Cleburne's advice and get drunk. 

The Marine colonel had explained that those who knew the secret invariably needed a day or two to absorb all the implications of what they had just learned. Drinking was the preferred method of doing so, at least in Cleburne's opinion.

So when Xander had gotten back to his apartment, he had started going through the beers in the fridge. Fred had been there and wanted to spend time with him, as had Oz. However, Xander had begged off. And even though Oz and Fred didn't know what was going on, they gave him much-needed space by heading out of the building.

So, Xander was now alone out on the balcony. Staring at the stars, as he drank another beer. Because this was something entirely new for him. A surprise that no amount of future knowledge could have prepared him for...

"Hey there, Howard. Want some company?"

Xander didn't turn at the sound of Rachael's voice. "Nope. Just want to be left alone," he replied.

"Well, tough - you're getting company anyway," Rachael said, as she sat down next to Xander. "Rough day?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You can't even imagine," Xander said. "And I don't want to be Mr. Sensitive New Age Guy, and talk about it."

"Don't, then. Hey, I know Cleburne has been doing the magical mystery tour on you. I also know you can't talk about what you've been told, over the past few weeks. I've been going through the same thing myself, from my girl friends in Los Angeles."

Xander remembered back in Pylea that the Furies had told Rachael something, and she had been steadfast in keeping that secret. "Well, we all have secrets. Guess we just have to learn to live with them. And this is one lesson I think is best learned solo," Xander said.

Rachael made a face. And then she leaned over and kissed Xander, full on the mouth.

"W-what?" Xander managed to get out. "What the hell are you doing?"

Rachael placed a finger on Xander's lips. "One thing I know. Live for today. Come on..." She started to drag him up off the chair. "No strings, Alexander, this is just tonight-"

Xander shook his head, as her meaning became clear. "No, no - you don't wanna do this, Rachael. Otherwise - you'll end up dead, hurt, evil or a demon!"

"What-" Ms. Weitz looked confused.

"Trust me, sweetheart. This won't end well, it *can't*! And I don't need to be Future Boy to know that!" Xander said passionately. "Because apart from the Furies, every woman I've ever been intimate with? They've come to a bad end. Every single one of them. You do this, and-"

"I only need to know one thing," Rachael interrupted, amazed at his issues. "Do you want this as much as I do, or not?"

Xander said nothing, but he didn't have to; the Israeli woman knew that he was sexually attracted to her. And it wasn't the resemblance to Faith, either; over the last few months, Harris had gotten to know her as her own woman, and not just a reminder of past happiness.

So she stood up, and led the man back into the apartment - and into his bedroom.

And yet, the whole time - the only thing on Xander's mind was that he was cursing Rachael Weitz, the same way he had cursed the rest of his women over the years...

TBC...


	10. Chapter 34

**Part Thirty-four**

**Richmond, Virginia. February 15, 2001**

Rachael Weitz woke up in a strange bed, tired and confused. {Where the hell?}

And then suddenly, all the events of the previous night quickly came rushing back into her memory. { Ohhhh, boy... }

Rachael could now see the nude form of Xander Harris laying in the bed, his horribly scarred back facing towards her. But still, even just the sight of her bed partner - it was enough to give the Israeli woman warm tingles, all over.

Of course, Weitz had known that Mr. Alexander Hall - no, she had to remember that it was Howard now, damn it - had been with other women before. That Slayer of his, and the Furies in LA - just to name a few. And she'd suspected that he would have learned a lot, from all of them...

But there was no way in hell the brunette spy could have possibly imagined, what kind of animal Xander Harris could be in bed these days. After all, as Anya had once so charmingly put it in the previous future, the guy *did* have the reputation of being a Viking in the sack!

Rachael could feel herself aching all over, from what he'd done to her. And secretly, she cherished said feeling with all her heart...

Suddenly, Xander yawned and turned over in bed. And then his eyes instantly snapped open, when he felt someone there with him. {Wake up! Unknown situation. Possible danger! } his inner Soldier Guy screamed in his head.

But as soon as Xander saw Rachael - okay, a Rachael with bed hair and no makeup, but still - he relaxed. "Morning," he said sleepily.

"Good morning," Weitz said, as she slid on top of him and placed her arms around his neck. "Alexander? I just wanted to say, thanks. That was the best Valentine's Day present I've ever had! Last night, it was-"

"Interesting?"

"Try incredible," the naked woman grinned, thoroughly satisfied after their night of passion. Rachael kissed Xander intensely and then asked, "Okay, I gotta ask - where the hell did you learn to do that thing you did, with your tongue?"

"Anya," Harris replied unthinkingly.

"Who?" the Jewish woman asked in confusion.

Suddenly Xander stiffened, and his lover instantly felt it. "Long story. Another time, okay?" he said.

Not liking the bad vibes she was now getting, Weitz got off of Harris and asked, "What's wrong?"

Xander just stared at the ceiling and said softly, "You don't want to hear it."

"Tell me anyway," she demanded. "Because I'll probably just nag until you cough up, lover boy. So spill!"

"I don't-" Xander shut himself up.

"WHAT?" Rachael almost yelled.

The former slave slowly turned to face her. "It's just - I still can't help thinking you've made a big mistake, getting involved with me like that-"

"We went through all this last night," Rachael said patiently, as she got out of bed and started looking for her clothes. "And I told you then, no strings attached. Hell, it's not like I'm asking you to convert to Judaism so that we can get married-"

"I know that," Xander interrupted her. "After all - I'm legally dead, so kinda tricky. And I can't give you, or any other woman, any sort of future..."

Rachael stopped, cold. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Xander placed his hands behind his head. "Rachael...tell me something. What do you think is going to happen, after 2003?"

"Well, no more future knowledge on your part, so-"

"I become Joe Normal?" Harris asked cuttingly. "Never gonna happen, Weitz. There's always gonna be someone out there, looking for me. Even if just to cut my head open, and see if there's any way I can be duplicated under laboratory conditions. You think there's any chance of a wife, 2.3 kids and a white picket fence in my future? Sorry, but if so you'd be dead wrong. I know that I'm gonna be a hunted man till the day I die...and what the hell kind of deal is that to inflict on a woman?"

The flat, level tone was enough to get Rachael completely chilled, even if his words hadn't been sufficient to cause goosebumps. The intelligence agent just finished getting dressed and said, "I gotta go, I'm late for an appointment in Washington. So, ah, call me tonight, okay?"

"Sure. See ya then, Rachael..."

And as Ms. Weitz tiptoed out of the apartment, trying not to wake up Oz and Fred, Xander cursed himself for dumping his issues on the poor woman like that.

However, he couldn't see the look on Rachael's face as she left his room. She mentally cursed the Furies, {It's not fair, He deserves better.}

**Los Angeles, California. February 16, 2001**

"Mr. Nabbit? There's someone here to see you."

David Nabbit leaned over, and clicked on the intercom on his desk. "Who is it, Gladys?" he asked his longtime secretary. "And hey, do they have an appointment?"

Gladys' voice came back a little uncertain. "Well, not as such - but he says he's Dr. Irving Hollins, from the University of Chicago? Still, he doesn't look anything like-"

"Is he a little boy, y'know - not yet a teenager?" Nabbit asked at once.

"Why yes, he's about twelve or thirteen - and he has-" Gladys sounded surprised by the question.

David again interrupted her at once. "Send him right in!"

The name of Irving Hollins was well known, in certain computer circles. And if the renowned child genius was at his doorstep, David was certainly not going to keep him waiting.

The door to the office opened and said child genius walked in, followed by an older teenage girl. And the femme looked annoyed at everything she'd had to do, to get past security! Nabbit hurried to greet his visitor, "Dr. Hollins, it's a pleasure to finally meet you! To what do I owe this honor?"

"Mr. Nabbit. Thank you for seeing us like this, and please - pardon the unexpected intrusion. Ah, this is Bethany Chaulk, she was kind enough to accompany me on my journey..." Hollins looked around. "May we sit down?"

"Sure, where are my manners? Sit, sit! Uh, can I get anything for the two of you?" the computer mogul said.

Both Hollins and Chaulk declined his offer. Irving got straight to the business at hand, "Mr. Nabbit, it's our understanding that you are not unaware of demons and various other paranormal entities that exist in this world...?"

"Ahhhhh..." Nabbit stammered uncertainly. {Oh man, does he know about that demon brothel? And if so, has he *told* anyone? }

"Don't worry. We're not part of some plot to ruin your reputation, or to make you seem insane. Ms. Chaulk here will be able to establish our bona fides. Bethany, if you please?" the Wizard asked politely.

Bethany nodded. Her brow crunched up slightly, and suddenly Nabbit was stunned to see his laptop floating off his desk. It floated through the air, until it was right in front of David.

And so, he just dumbly looked at his guests. {Holy shit, how?}

Hollins just nodded at him. David proceeded to move his arms around the laptop, to make sure it wasn't being held up by wires or whatever. Satisfied that it wasn't, he grabbed the laptop and looked at Hollins' face.

"As you can see from Ms. Chaulk's actions, we ourselves are not strangers to the paranormal."

Nabbit, his eyes still opened wide in shock, nodded in silent agreement as Hollins continued, "Mr. Nabbit - David - your government needs you. I am here today, representing a group of concerned individuals; as we need to prepare for certain events of a paranormal nature, that are coming soon."

"Right. Well, uh, what do you need from me?" Nabbit asked slowly, still somewhat freaked out.

**Bethesda Navy Hospital, Maryland. Later that day**

U.S. Navy Commander Bert Chalmers reached and grabbed his cell phone off of his desk. He had hoped to have a fully uninterrupted afternoon to get caught up on the paperwork from his surgery the past week, but alas - that was not to be.

"Dr. Chalmers," he said into the offending device.

"Hey, roomie."

"Josh! Great to hear from you. What are you up to?" Chalmers asked his Naval Academy roommate.

"Well - same old, same old. Every meal in the corps is a feast, and every paycheck is a fortune. Oh yeah, saw your brother a while back up in Idaho," Cleburne said.

"I know, Darien mentioned it. Sounds like you're up to your old tricks, cowboy. Fighting the good fight, and all that?"

"Well, I go where the Marine Corps sends me," Cleburne replied with a straight face.

"Oh! Lizzie will want me to say hello," Chalmers said, referring to his wife.

"How's she doing these days?"

"Doing well, thanks. The kids are keeping her busy, but she still finds time to design buildings. She's even been made partner at her architect firm," Chalmers explained proudly.

"Congrats to her. It's the third best thing she's ever done in her life."

Chalmers could swear that he could hear Cleburne smiling through the phone. "Third best?"

"Well, there's your two children," Cleburne explained.

"Hey! She did marry me!" Chalmers chided his friend.

"Yeah, there's no accounting for taste. I did warn her about you," Cleburne replied with a chuckle.

Chalmers effected mock outrage. "You fixed the two of us up!" he protested.

"Well, I thought you would turn out better!" Cleburne declared. "Anyway, I called for a reason other than catching up."

"And that would be?" Bert asked.

"Remember Joyce Summers in California?"

"Summers - oh, yes. Brain tumor, I operated on her last year. As I recall, the operation went well," Chalmers replied with a frown.

"She seems to be recovering well, anyway, from what I'm told..." Chalmers had his suspicions as to just how Cleburne might know this. "However, I'm concerned about a certain day that's coming up."

"Certain day?"

"Yeah. Listen, roomie, what are you doing next week? On account of I kinda need for you to clear your calendar, for a few days."

Chalmers leaned over and looked at his schedule. "It's pretty short notice, but...yeah, I think I can do it. What do you need?"

"A house call."

**The Summers gallery, Sunnydale, California. February 17, 2001**

Joyce Summers looked down at the paper on her desk. It felt odd, doing this macabre task...

One which was slightly less macabre than finding a train car full of slaughtered passengers. An act which thankfully had not taken place in this world a few days ago, as Drusilla was currently very far away from the Californian Hellmouth.

In any case, Joyce knew that Buffy and the others would disapprove if they knew what she was really up to. They had protested enough when they thought she was coming in just to select a gift for a friend...

If they knew that she was doing some work over some misdirected Greek amphorae while she waited for the friend, well - they would be over at the gallery so fast, that it would look like they'd teleported there.

Her assistant Regina knew, but Joyce had convinced her to not tell anyone. Regina was now in front, dealing with the few customers who had come during this slow Saturday morning. It was still too early for the casual art collectors to make their way to the gallery; no doubt they were still at home, sipping their cappuccinos and reading the paper.

The door chime rang. After a few seconds, Regina buzzed on the intercom. "Joan's here."

"Go ahead, and send her in," Joyce replied.

Presently, Joan Lemke walked into the office. "Hello Joyce," the CPA for the gallery greeted the owner.

"Hello, Joan. Sorry to drag you away from your son..." Joan Lemke had delivered a bouncing baby boy back in December.

And the good woman smiled at the mention of her offspring. "Oh, no bother. I thought I'd let Josef have some quiet time alone with Aaron Joshua."

"Still, I hate making a new mother leave her child's side," Joyce said apologetically.

Joan waved her hand. "Really, don't worry about it. Actually, I did most of the work at home while AJ slept." She sat down across the desk from Joyce, and opened up the attaché case she had been carrying. Joan then spread the papers on the desk.

"Everything's here, just like you wanted. I had the lawyers look it over, and they say it should work exactly as you intend."

Joyce looked over the papers. "Rupert is set up as the administrator of the trust, right?"

Joan nodded. "Yes, he'll oversee everything. Your girls will be well taken care of. The house will be paid off, and the expenses for its upkeep will be no problem - for at least five years."

Joyce smiled sadly. "Good. In case something does happen, I do *not* want to leave them wanting for anything!"

Joan hesitated for a second. "Joyce, is everything all right? I mean...as far as I know, your surgery last year went well and all. You're getting better. Is there some reason why you're double-checking all this now?"

"No particular reason. It just seemed like a good time to do it," Joyce said, kinda lamely. {Well, after all, I can't very well say that a dead prescient friend of my daughter - a friend at one time, anyway - wrote a letter before he got killed, telling me that I would die this coming week! }

However, Joan seemed to accept the reason Joyce gave. "Well, it makes sense. And Josef and I have to start thinking about this for AJ. We'll probably even do the same thing! 'Course, I think we're gonna have to have a different name for the trust. I mean - this Xander Harris must have been great guy for you to name the trust after him, but I think I want something else for my son..."

**Washington, D.C. February 18, 2001**

"We've looked at the figures coming out of Cleveland. And there's a definite increase in paranormal activity, from last year! Nothing major, but enough for us to take note that *something's* going on," the former FBI agent named Fletcher said from his place at the conference table.

"What does Lockley say?" Cleburne asked from the head of the table.

"She said the Cleveland PD have noticed it too. The local brass, they're trying to figure out how to respond - without admitting to something that the papers would have a field day with," Fletcher replied

"Tell her to blame it all on gangs, that get high on PCP," Xander said with a sarcastic smile. "That was the party line for the police in Sunnydale, back in the day. Probably still is..."

Fletcher nodded at that. "Sounds like a possibility, I'll definitely pass that on to her."

"So, what does she say about the Slayer?" Cleburne suddenly asked. And it took Xander a second to realize that he meant Kennedy, and not Buffy.

"Young, impetuous, aggressive - and for some reason, pretty flirty," Fletcher said.

Several soft laughs echoed from those around the conference table, Harris included - as he managed to think about what he knew regarding the brunette Chosen One, without wincing. "Okay, more than I wanted to know..."

Cleburne looked at the list in front of him. "What about the Watchers?"

Monsignor Bentallo answered that one. "Quentin Travers is definitely out of the picture, from this point on. And Wyndham-Pryce appears to have taken over as the new head of the Council."

"Wesley?" Xander asked in confusion.

"No, Roger. Although he does have a son named Wesley," Bentallo explained. "The man has already sent word to the Special Office that he desires to affect a reconciliation, and there are also hints that they will want us to intercede on their behalf - with your organization."

"We're hearing the same thing from some other organizations, as a matter of fact," Irving Hollins said from his place at the table. "And I think it is something worth exploring."

Cleburne raised an eyebrow at that. "Well, that's something for the Committee to decide how to respond to."

"How's it coming, assembling a new Committee?" the U.S. Navy SeAL nicknamed Red asked.

"As well as could be expected. We should have the Committee completely reconstituted by the end of the month," Esther Marcum declared from the end of the table. "And for the record, we're intentionally going outside the normal circles in recruiting new members. The old Committee was too heavy on spooks and military types. We want some new blood, and a fresh viewpoint on our problems."

"Hence Mr. Nabbit, despite his situation with that demon brothel," the Wizard explained. "We want some parties involved whose lives are not solely dedicated to government work."

Cleburne decided to get the meeting back on track. "Has everyone read the report on the situation in West Virginia? On account of I've got to admit that dealing with a coven of teenage witches on a power trip, is a new one on me..."

**1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale, California. Later that day**

The quiet of the Sunday afternoon was shattered, by the ringing of the phone. Buffy hurried to answer it, grateful for the distraction from her schoolwork. As Joyce had insisted that Buffy not let up on her college studies, despite the approaching date that they were all dreading.

They didn't speak of it openly, but Buffy had noticed that everyone's plans seemed to be grouped into the category of pre- and post- February 21st. As three days from now, was the date Joyce Summers was supposed to die from a brain aneurysm - according to the letter from the believed-to-be-deceased Xander Harris.

"Summers residence," Buffy answered the phone, ceasing her woolgathering.

"Joyce Summers, please."

Buffy thought the voice on the other end sounded familiar. "May I ask who's calling?" She was just a tad protective of her mother right now.

"It's Buffy, isn't it? Ah, I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Dr. Chalmers. I assisted in the surgery on your mother last year?"

Buffy instantly remembered the doctor, and more importantly what Jonathan Levinson had learned about him. That he was one of the top surgeons in the Navy, if not the country. And the blonde college girl had been very relieved that someone of his caliber had been operating on her mother.

The Slayer instantly started to smile as she replied, "Oh, yeah, I *do* remember you Dr. Chalmers. And hey, thank you again for helping my mother-"

"Just doing my job, ma'am." For some reason, Buffy found it odd that a man like Chalmers would refer to her as "ma'am". She was barely more than a teenager, after all. "Is your mother home?"

"Yeah, hold on a second-" Buffy put down the phone, and went to get her mother.

"Joyce Summers."

"Mrs. Summers, hello. This is Dr. Chalmers."

"Oh, good afternoon! Uh, I didn't know that doctors checked up on their patients during the weekends," Joyce joked.

"Some of us still do," Chalmers responded. "And on that subject, I'm going to be back in Sunnydale on the 20th. I'm hoping that you'll be able to come in for some follow-up exams and tests? I want to make sure that your recovery is proceeding smoothly."

Joyce was almost struck mute by Chalmers' question. Buffy looked questioningly at her mother's look of confusion.

"Mrs. Summers?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Dr. Chalmers. I was just, uh, mentally reviewing my calendar for the 20th..." Joyce saw Buffy's eyebrows rise up at the mention of the day. "But, er, yes - I can make myself available to come in and meet with you. What time do you want me to meet you - and where?"

"Ten o'clock should be fine. I can use an office over at Sunnydale Memorial for the procedure, and I'll be sure to get your file from your current doctor. If that's all right with you?"

Joyce nodded. "Yes, of course. Ten o'clock at the hospital. I'll see you then." She hung up the phone. "Well, that was odd," she said to Buffy.

"Mom? What was all that about?" her eldest daughter asked.

"Dr. Chalmers wants me at the hospital on Tuesday, for some tests," Joyce explained briefly.

Buffy immediately felt joy. {Yes! Mom will be in the hospital on that day. That means an overnight stay, right? Which is of the good, as Xander never said when exactly during the day in question *it* happened. So, so - I won't have to force any doctors and nurses to constantly stand watch over Mom, or whatever! }

Joyce noticed the change on Buffy's face. "It certainly seems a bit strange he picked that day, I have to say..."

"Well, I say never look a gift horse in the mouth!" the Slayer exclaimed. "Mom, this is like the perfect opportunity for you to spend the day there, as well as the 21st..."

A shadow seemed to pass over Joyce's face. "Honey, if he finds nothing wrong, I might not be able to-"

"MOM! We all know what's gonna happen, so for God's sake - just lie your ass off! Say that you're feeling all oogy or whatever, and they won't kick you outta there. Not if they don't want the rest of us to sue that damn hospital for everything they've got, if you-" Buffy then shut up, not wanting to say it.

"Honey, the doctor didn't say anything about me staying overnight. He just said that he wanted to do some tests," Joyce tried to calm down her daughter.

Buffy crossed her arms and looked at her mother for a second. Then a smile spread across her face. "I can fix that." She walked over and picked up the phone. The Chosen One then pressed a few buttons, "I bet you don't even know that our phone can do this, right?" she said to her mother.

"Buffy, what *are* you doing?" Joyce asked hesitantly.

Buffy didn't say anything, as she listened to the phone for a few seconds. "Dr. Chalmers, this is Joyce Summers' daughter Buffy. Yeah, listen, about those tests you want to do Tuesday? Well, Mom's not been sleeping very well. Uh-huh, my sister and I are really getting worried. I mean, you don't think it could be connected to the tumor - do you?" She listened for a second, ignoring her mother's attempts to get her attention.

"Maybe it would help, if you could observe her sleep at the hospital?" Buffy listened again and smiled. "Yeah, I agree completely, a nap might not be enough - an overnight stay for observation would be best. Okay, we'll make sure she has an overnight bag. Thank you, doctor. We'll see you bright and early Tuesday morning!" She hung up the phone, and smiled at her mother.

"Buffy..." Joyce said in a firm tone.

"You can be mad at me all you want, Mom, hell - you can even ground me till I'm 30, if you like! Just as long as you're alive to do it, that's all I care about!"

Joyce looked at her daughter for a second, she then suddenly took a few steps over and fiercely hugged her oldest child.

**Richmond, Virginia. February 19, 2001**

Xander felt himself being knocked to the ground. He then cursed loudly, as he rolled up off the training mat.

"You know, kid, I understand that you're not back up to full strength yet - because of the whole Pylea thing. Still, you're not concentrating! Get your mind back in the game..." Cleburne said, as he waited for Xander to stand all the way back up.

Xander straightened himself out. "Just letting you get over-confident, old man. And when you're all cocky and the like, I'll kick your ass..."

Cleburne smirked, as Xander and he circled each other. The Marine colonel had taken up training Xander again, as part of his therapy. It wasn't too rough yet, as the doctors hadn't cleared Harris for full contact martial arts training. Still, it was enough that Xander being distracted led to a higher-than-normal number of knockdowns from his trainer.

Xander launched an attack, which Cleburne easily parried. Cleburne then counter-attacked and caught Xander by surprise with a leg sweep. Once again, Harris tumbled to the floor.

Cleburne stood there with his hands in his hips, and looked at his charge. "Kid, look. I know why you're worried, a really bad day for Mrs. Summers is coming soon. I can understand why you'd be worked up over it-"

"What do you know about that?" Xander said at once.

Cleburne thought for a second. "Kid, Esther's met your parents. That's how I know you had a really shitty kind of life, even before this whole future knowledge thing was dumped into your lap. And for a while there, how Joyce Summers was more of a mom to you than your biological mother was..."

Cleburne held up his hands, to stop the attempted interruption from Xander. "Kid, *of course* you're all torn up about the fact that she might die. However, you've done all that you can. You've told us about it, and we've taken all possible steps to try and prevent it."

"I can't help feeling though that I could have done more, that I *could* do more," Xander replied.

"Yeah? What, exactly? The surgery went as well as it could have. She got the best treatment possible, during and afterwards. And Bert is on his way there right now, to keep an eye on her for the next few days. I mean, other than going to medical school and performing the surgery yourself, what else is there you could have done?" Cleburne asked.

Xander clenched his fists for a second in frustration. "You don't know what it was like, the first time around. I can't just sit here and do nothing!" he almost shouted.

"No, and you shouldn't. What you can do is stay here, and recover from your own little trauma. You can focus a little, and train hard enough to get your edge back. You can make sure that the only thing that threatens Mrs. Summers in the future, is paper cuts from the invoices at her gallery. You do your job, and let the experts do theirs."

Xander looked questioningly at Cleburne. "And what exactly would my job be, nowadays?"

Cleburne took a combat stance. "For now, it's not constantly getting your ass kicked by me..." {Yeah, hopefully I'll kick his ass so hard, he won't think to ask that question again for a while.} Joshua thought, as he and Xander started sparring again.

**Washington, D.C. Later that day**

At the Israeli embassy, things were not exactly looking good for Rachael Weitz.

"You slept with him. And yet, Harris STILL hasn't confided anything to you?" her immediate superior in the Mossad demanded.

The female spy groaned, as she noticed one of the embassy officials named Moshe Greenberg staring at her in disbelief. The brass had only now found out about her little Valentine's Day present, and were no doubt wondering why she hadn't instantly reported it as a sign of good progress. "It's not that simple-"

"Ma echpat li?" the Washington station chief slipped into his native tongue.

"Yes, you should care!" Rachael replied in English, and rather heatedly. "He's spent years in a hell world, that none of us can even begin to imagine. And Alexander just came back from a place where the demons brutally tortured him for days, nonstop, to get information! Think about it; if THEY couldn't get him to crack, what makes you think anyone human could? Besides..." Weitz then shut herself up.

Greenberg knew what she had been about to say, though. "You didn't do it for your country, did you? You *wanted* that American..."

The Mossad officer looked concerned. "It's obvious you've lost your objectivity, Weitz. You should-"

"Be replaced? Sent home?" Rachael interrupted. "I wouldn't recommend trying it. Anyone new would have to spend months trying to worm her way into his affections, and there's no guarantee that she'll ever get any further than I already have! Besides, Alexander's information is only good for another two years now; do you honestly want to lose any more time and opportunity than you have to?"

The two Israelis looked at each other, not liking that - but unable to argue with her logic, either. "We'll contact Tel Aviv, and get our orders. In the meantime - don't leave the embassy," the station chief warned Rachael.

The brunette nodded, and quickly left the room. "What do you think?" Moshe asked his companion.

The intelligence official shrugged. "She has a point, time *is* running out for us. And the fact remains, Weitz did finally succeed in getting into that meshuggener's pants! Even if she's now compromised, the woman's still our best bet at learning everything the prize knows..."

Greenberg nodded. "Then we're agreed? Weitz will continue to work on Harris, and I'll have someone ready to yank her out - if it ever appears that he's completely turned her."

"Good, and personally I hope we won't have to go that far. Can you imagine the conversation we would have to have with the old man, if we did that?" the intelligence officer said with a sigh.

**Sunnydale Memorial Hospital, Sunnydale, California. February 20, 2001**

The automatic door slid open, as the Summers women approached it. Joyce led the way, carrying an overnight bag. Following her were Buffy and Dawn.

"Mom, how about you teach me to drive this weekend? Come on, it's got to be safer than letting Buffy drive all the time," Dawn was saying to her mother.

"HEY!" an indignant Buffy said immediately.

"Dawn, you're still two years away from your Driver's Ed course," Joyce said while ignoring Buffy's outburst, as secretly - she kind of agreed with Dawn's assessment of Buffy's driving skills. She still remembered what her jeep Cherokee had looked like, after the night of the band candy incident...

"Well, yeah, but you can still teach me how to drive. Maybe we could go to that really big parking lot out behind the site of the new high school? There's nothing there I could hit..." Dawn looked hopefully at her mother, her teenage enthusiasm apparent on her face.

Buffy asserted herself at this time. "No way, that's only four days from now. She'll need time to rest up and recover from these tests!"

"Buffy, I'm not in that bad a shape. After all, I drove us here this morning," Joyce soothingly said to her daughter.

{Yeah, and like I was happy about that} Buffy thought to herself. "Mom, I think you, actually all of us, need to take a break and enjoy some quiet time after this week. Come on, Mom - you *know* how everyone's been on pins and needles recently. I think some quiet time for the three of us is just what the doctor ordered!"

Joyce smiled sadly at Buffy. {She's right. Everyone has been out of sorts over my upcoming death. Well, possible death. I know *I* need some vacation time when all this is over! }

And thus, she turned to Dawn. "Dawn sweetie, maybe we could do it another weekend. This Saturday, we'll have a girl's only weekend."

Dawn face's fell for a second. {But Kevin wants to go see a movie with me Saturday night!} But after a few seconds, Dawn's features lightened up. {Come on, this is your mother we're talkin' about. She wants to spend time with you! } "Okay Mom, we'll do the video and popcorn thing." She then hugged Joyce lightly.

The middle-aged woman smiled back, as Buffy joined in the hug. They broke the hug as Dr. Chalmers approached them.

"Mrs. Summers. Ladies," Chalmers greeted the Summers women.

Joyce subconsciously straightened her dress. "Dr. Chalmers. Good morning..." Buffy and Dawn likewise greeted the Navy doctor before Joyce continued, "I hope the hospital food is better than last time?" she joked.

Chalmers smiled. "Well, I'm not sure what I can do about that. However, I do have some honey that my brother sent me. That might make some of the food more palatable." He motioned for the Summers trio to follow him. "If you'll come with me, we'll get started." The four of them thus made their way further into the hospital.

**The Magic Box. Later that day**

"Thank you for your purchase. Please, come again and spend more money!" Anya said to the customer, as she handed their bagged purchases to him. "Oh, and I hope the toad's liver cures you of that unsightly wart. If not, come back and we'll sell you something else!"

The customer looked up at that. "Hey, are you gonna refund my money if this doesn't work?"

Suddenly, a look of horror crossed Anya's face. "What? No, no refunds. That's against store policy, we don't refund the purchase price-" she sputtered out.

Giles hurried over before Anya could say anything else. "Sir, just let us know if that doesn't work, and we'll see what we can work out. All right?"

Nodding, the customer thanked them and left the store. And as the door closed behind him, Anya turned towards the former Ripper. "GILES! We can't let him think he'll get a refund! He might not do it right then. Because once you use up the liver, you know how we can't resell it! The business would lose money. I say we should give him store credit, but that's it!"

Giles held his hands up to stop the verbal torrent from his business partner. "Anya, remember that sometimes it's better to lose a little money in order to gain customer loyalty. That way, they'll continue to patronize our establishment-?"

A look of comprehension spread over Anya's face. "Right! And so they'll spend more money, long-term. Yes, I see now where you're going with this..."

Giles found himself almost chuckling at Anya's statement. At times, her drive for capitalistic success could be entertaining...

But at other times, that and her lack of familiarity with human customs could be so *very* frustrating.

It didn't help that she and her boyfriend Andrew seemed to be constantly fighting nowadays, either. Mr. Wells just didn't seem to have the patience or social skills to deal with the former vengeance demon. Well, not that many people would have...

For example, just a few days ago Rupert had heard them discussing Star Trek of all things. Anya had been saying that if that TV show (which Andrew had forced her to watch with him) had been reality, in the old days she would have heaped so much vengeance on Captain Kirk for all those women - that her services would have been booked solid, for *years* on end.

Andrew had tried to convince her that that wasn't what the show was actually about...

But Anya had then responded by accusing her boyfriend of being a blind idiot, anyone could see that popular entertainment in the 1960s had been tailor-made for a population consisting of biased, chauvinistic males - that thought they could do whatever they wanted to women, and easily get away with it.

And then things had *really* gone downhill after that...

At times - Giles honestly wished that Anya had found someone else better suited to helping her readapt to human life, to be her paramour.

At any rate, Rupert shook his head to clear his mind of his previous line of thought. "Anya, has this week's inventory been checked? I think we're running low on several types of witchcraft supplies-"

"Well, y'know, if you just charged Willow, Tara and Jonathan for everything they used - that wouldn't be a problem!" Anya faced Giles with her hands on her hips.

"Anya. You know as well as I do that they need those supplies to help out with, with the vampire slaying. Also - they, they need them for their attempts to return Ms. Madison to her human form," Giles replied.

"Yeah, and while we're on that subject? This is a magic shop, not a pet shop! They keep bringing that rat-"

"Ms. Madison," Giles corrected his partner.

Anya rolled her eyes. "Ms. Madison, around here. I mean, I was there during the Black Death! And so I *really* don't want to go through that again, in human form. This body is ridiculously frail and fragile. It might get sick, y'know?"

Giles momentarily had his thoughts shifted to the events going on over at the Sunnydale Memorial hospital, right about now.

The Watcher knew that Joyce had checked herself into the hospital for observations and tests. He had almost gone with her, but the woman had convinced him to try to maintain a façade of normalcy for her girls by going into work today.

However, the Englishman fully intended to leave early, after all - he really didn't worry about Anya not being able to run the store properly. When it came to business matters, Ms. Jenkins was easily the most competent of the Scooby gang.

"Anya, please. I'm sure that Ms. Madison is not carrying the plague; Willow keeps her cage very clean, after all. I'm sure you've seen that for yourself?"

Anya harrumphed at that. "Sure. But still...a rat's a rat, Giles. And if we're going to have it here all the time, at the very least we ought to make them pay a housekeeping fee..."

Anya suddenly had a look on her face that positively screamed 'idea'. "Hey, you know - there has to be other transmogrification victims out there! Maybe we can make money by having those three rent out their services? As subcontractors of course, that way we don't have to pay them benefits or 401(k)s, and maybe we can even..."

Giles rolled his eyes at that as he swiftly tuned her out, wondering just how early he could leave from work today.

**Sunnydale Memorial Hospital, Sunnydale, California. Later that evening**

{You know - Dr. Chalmers was right, this honey is absolutely great!} Joyce thought to herself, as she took another bite out of a honey-covered biscuit.

The television in front of the bed droned on, with some mindless news story. Buffy and Dawn sat on either side of her bed, and looked bored out of their skulls listening to the guy on KTLA.

The tests performed by Dr. Chalmers had been tiring, and there had been quite a few of them. Joyce had not enjoyed the MRI, she'd felt it was claustrophobic and was glad to be out of it. She had also been poked and prodded so much, that she knew now how her mother's pincushion must have felt.

Her daughters had been with her every moment of the day, when allowed by Dr. Chalmers. Giles had shown up about mid-afternoon, and he was now sitting in the chair at end of the bed.

Willow and most of the other Scoobies had made appearances throughout the day too. Anya and Andrew hadn't shown up though, and to be perfectly honest - Joyce was silently glad of that. {Who knows what sort of tactless comment Anya might make, and I really couldn't put up with Andrew's geeky chatter right now.}

Giles said he had left the two of them at the Magic Box to oversee things there. So Joyce just swallowed the bite of the biscuit she had just taken, then reached out and tapped Buffy's shoulder.

"What, Mom?" Buffy asked.

"Why don't you take your sister and go home, get some rest?" Joyce said.

"No! I'm staying here, for as long as you're here! School and homework can wait!" Dawn said with finality, before Buffy could answer.

The Slayer looked at her sister, then at her mother. "What she said goes double for me too," Buffy declared.

"But girls, there's really nothing you can do here. It's better for you to go home and relax," Joyce explained.

"Mom, how the hell are we supposed to do that? Knowing what we know? Forget it, Dawn and I are going to spend every single moment with you that we can - until we know you're out of danger. And since you won't be out of danger until tomorrow night, well - you've got two more shadows till then."

Joyce looked ready to object as Buffy went on, "Mom, we both need to do this. I couldn't stand the thought of not being here if...something happened. I've already gone through that once, with Graduation day. I am *not* going to have that happen again!" Dawn and Giles recognized the tone of voice that Buffy adopted as the 'Me Slayer, do what I say' tone.

Joyce looked at her daughter for a few seconds. "I can't talk you into sleeping at home tonight?" she asked.

Buffy shook her head. "Not a chance."

Joyce nodded. "Okay, but you still need to go and get a change of clothes-"

"Already taken care of," Dawn piped up. "Both Buffy and I brought overnight bags this morning."

Joyce smiled at that. "Well then, I hope one of you brought a deck of cards. Because if I remember correctly, I owe you both a good lesson or two at poker from the last time I was in the hospital..."

**141 Embury Street, Los Angeles, California. Later that night**

Cordelia stretched out on the couch in her apartment, as the TV played. She couldn't stretch out too far though, as she was sharing the couch with Chuck - the aerobics instructor from her gym.

Cordy had indeed found the man at that club, during Valentine's Day. They had gotten along quite well, dancing and talking the night away; so much so that Cordy had failed to spot Angel and Darla making out, instead of looking for vampires...

Since that night, the two humans had seen or talked to each other every day and night. With Cordy's visions occurring less and less nowadays, she actually had plenty of time for a social life - and to be honest, the former May Queen wanted so very much to have one. It gave her a sense of normalcy, that she hadn't really known since her junior year of high school.

Queen C really enjoyed that, and had taken to it with a gusto.

So much so that Cordy had fallen asleep in Chuck's arms, while they were watching TV. And fortunately, Dennis hadn't seemed to give them any problems - unlike what had happened with Wilson Christopher, ages ago...

"Hey," Ms. Chase whispered to her date, as she suddenly woke up.

Chuck leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. "Hey there, sleepyhead. I'll have to remember for the future, that Keanu Reeves movies make you fall asleep."

Cordy laughed at that. "Well, he's always frowning and scrunching his forehead a lot. Kinda reminds me of my old palomino horse, and someone at work...anyway, I get enough of that sort of thing at the office!"

"Keanu reminds you of someone you work with? Oh yeah, I think I've met him. And, hey - does that guy ever smile?"

Chuck had indeed met Angel the time that Angel Investigations had helped out at the gym. Angel had been his normal brooding self; however, Chuck had gotten along well enough with Darla, which had led to her informally acting as a matchmaker for the two.

Darla was clearly delighted that Cordy and Chuck were hitting it off. And the female vampire was slowly adapting, into the soul-having style of life. Of course, she had the advantage of not having to worry about losing her soul...

Still, she had her bad days with the memories of her exploits as a bloodsucking monster. And elsewhere right now, she and Angel were investigating a series of black masses, blood sacrifices and totems! So Darla was just happy that she could do something to make a friend happy, when the occasion arose.

And Cordy *was* happy. {Got to remember to thank Darla one day, for hooking me up like this.} Cordy thought as she reached over, and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl that they had popped before the movies had started.

"So, what's next on the movie list?" Cordelia asked her new boyfriend.

"Well, it depends if I can hear anything over you talking in your sleep. We need something that'll keep you awake..."

"How about something romantic? And I talk in my sleep?" Cordy asked. This was new, no one had ever mentioned that before.

Chuck nodded. "Yeah, you kept muttering something. It sounded like you were apologizing to someone, and asking for forgiveness? You kept calling out for someone named Sander. Hey, did you do something to tick off the people at Kentucky Fried Chicken?" Chuck joked.

The way the two of them were sitting, Chuck couldn't see Cordelia's face. If he had, he would have instantly known that something was *very* wrong; and, possibly, saved himself a great deal of angst in the future...

But as it was, Cordy had a few seconds to regain her composure before she responded.

"Guy from high school, actually. I, uh, treated him kinda harshly, and I've always regretted what I did back then," Cordelia said in an even tone.

"Ex-boyfriend?" Chuck asked cautiously, as his boyfriend male rival antenna went up.

"Well, yeah. Thing is I broke up with him in a really nasty way, three years ago. And, um, I never got the chance to apologize for acting the way I did, before he died."

Chuck considered that, and relaxed. After all, a dead ex was one he didn't have to worry about her hooking back up with. "Well, you were just a teenager back then; you probably didn't know any better," he said comfortingly.

Ms. Chase sighed deeply, an act that did not go unnoticed. "Actually, I did. Or I should have known..." Cordy replied.

"No," Chuck said, as he hugged his girlfriend tightly. "Come on, I know I don't have the complete story yet; but I'm sure you had no way of knowing how bad it would get. It wasn't your fault!" he insisted, having no way of knowing that indeed a fair amount of what happened *had* been her fault.

After all, she *had* chosen to walk away from Xander that night outside the Bronze. "Chuck..." Cordelia stared to say.

"Sweetheart - live in the now, that's my motto. And if this guy was lucky enough to date you back then, I'm sure he'd be smart enough to want you to get on with your life now," Chuck said, unknowingly repeating what the image of Xander had said to Cordelia in the museum many months ago.

There was an uncomfortable pause. "Hey, enough bad thoughts. What movie do you want to watch?" Chuck asked, hoping to change the tone of the date back to something he would be more comfortable with.

**Sunnydale Memorial Hospital, Sunnydale, California. February 21, 2001**

"Come on, Mom. Let's get you home," Dawn said as she led her mother, with Buffy trailing behind them to their SUV in the hospital parking garage, during the late afternoon.

The tests and observation had finally come to an end. And Joyce was glad of this fact. Actually, Joyce was more glad that Dr. Chalmers had given her a clean bill of health...

Unlike in the history Xander remembered, her brain hadn't gotten fried sometime during the morning - probably due to Chalmers' superior surgical skills. And shortly after lunch, the man had come to Joyce's room and told her the results of the tests. The doctor had explained everything in detail to Joyce, Giles and the girls. He even had the MRI results and X-rays to show them.

The physician had explained what he thought the long-term effects of her surgery would be. He'd also talked about the potential aneurysm that the tests had uncovered. It had been a tricky one to find, almost going unnoticed. Chalmers didn't come out and actually say that...

However, Joyce and the others were able to silently figure that out from the knowledge they'd had provided to them, by Xander's letter.

Chalmers had been able to detail the steps that had been decided upon during the examinations today, to ensure that the aneurysm did not cause Joyce problems in the future. He also detailed the things she and her daughters should be on the lookout for.

"In my professional opinion however, it looks like we've gotten everything. These tests we've run show no signs of any current problems. I'm cautiously hopeful that you're out of the woods," he had explained.

Bert had then set up a program for Joyce to follow for the next few months. But to be honest, the things the doctor had suggested didn't differ that much from what Joyce was already doing. He had also left his number to call, if she should have any questions or if anything happened.

All this had been reassuring to Joyce's oldest daughter, although a suspicious little voice at the back of Buffy's mind had whispered that there was something...off, about all this.

Something not quite making sense. After all - why would this very busy and respected doctor come all the way to Sunnydale from the other side of the country, just for her mother? And spend almost two days concentrating on her case?

However, these thoughts remained in the back of Buffy's mind, as the daughter's joy over her mother's improvement trumped all other concerns.

With their concerns answered, the girls were just anxious now to get Joyce home. Giles had left about half an hour earlier, supposedly to take care of an emergency at the Magic Box. However, Buffy knew that the Englishman had gone to the Summers home; the rest of the Scoobies were there too, setting up a welcome home party for Joyce.

Thinking of Giles, Buffy thought to herself that the relationship between her mother and her Watcher was obviously proceeding to a new level. And the Slayer admitted to herself that she found it kinda odd. However, she was also coming to accept it.

The Chosen One thought it was kind of cute, anyway, that Giles was clearly uncomfortable when Buffy was around, and the subject was hinted at. {Oh, what the hell, I suppose I should pull Giles aside soon, and just give him my blessing already. After all, Mom could do worse. A *lot* worse! Besides, now that Dad's in Spain, they'll be good for each other.}

Buffy's attention was suddenly drawn back to reality, by Dawn's squeal of delight. Buffy looked around and saw the reason for it, as Kevin approached the three Summers women. "Kevin, what are you doing here?" Dawn asked.

"Uh, I was at the hospital visiting my uncle. And I was getting ready to walk home, when I saw you guys," Kevin explained.

Dawn ran over and grabbed Kevin's hand, almost dragging him over to Joyce. "Mom, this is Kevin Berman. He goes to school with me!"

Joyce smiled at the young man, whose discomfort was obvious. "Kevin, nice to meet you at last. I've heard quite a bit about you," Joyce said, as she shook his hand.

"Really?" Kevin said, with a look of apprehension.

"Oh, yes. Dawn's been quite talkative about you and her friends, lately. Also, I think I've heard Buffy mention your name once or twice." At that Buffy, Dawn and Kevin all blushed a little bit.

"Mom!" Buffy and Dawn said in unison.

Joyce continued smiling, sometimes it was fun to be a mother. "Kevin, it's getting late. Would you like us to give you a ride home?"

The boy shrugged. "I guess..."

Dawn's smile threatened to split her face wide open at hearing that. She had been hoping for that exact question to be asked. She figured this was a great way to introduce Kevin to her mother, without her big sister getting a chance to run interference; and from the look on Buffy's face, the blonde had clearly figured that out.

Dawn decided to press her advantage. "Mom, maybe Kevin could come over and eat dinner with us tonight? I mean, I'm sure I could fix something real quick-"

"Dawn!" Buffy almost hissed at her sister.

"Buffy, please! It would be nice to have some extra company tonight. Plus, it gives me a chance to get to know some of the people in Dawn's life! I mean, I got to know your friends pretty well during high school, so there's no reason why I shouldn't do the same for your sister..." Joyce soothingly said to her eldest daughter. "Why don't you put our bags in the SUV, and we'll then get going?"

Buffy thought about arguing for the barest fraction of a second, figuring the surprise party might be ruined; then she just did as her mother said. Joyce talked as Buffy did so, "Dawn, why don't you and Kevin sit in the back? I'll sit up front in the passenger seat, and Buffy'll drive us back to the house."

"Buffy's driving?" Dawn said in a high-pitched voice. Kevin immediately turned and stared at her, with a concerned look.

"Dawn honey, I'm still a little tired from all the tests. Buffy can drive us home," Joyce explained as she got into the SUV.

"Yeah, I can drive us home! And quit being such a big baby, I'm not that bad a driver!" Buffy whispered in annoyance to her sister.

Dawn took a deep breath, and got into the SUV. Kevin got in on the other side, sitting behind Joyce. He grabbed hold of his girlfriend's hand...and as the two looked into each other's eyes - everything else was quickly forgotten.

Buffy drove the SUV out of the garage and onto the streets of Sunnydale. "Mrs. Summers, I hope you're feeling well?" Kevin then said, deciding that the best way of avoiding the overwhelming temptation Dawn offered - was to concentrate on her mother.

"Yes, thank you, Kevin. I'm feeling much better than I thought I would, when I went into the hospital," Joyce replied, taking a liking to Dawn's friend.

"I hope it was nothing serious?" Kevin asked at once.

Dawn decided to have some fun with her mother, as the SUV arrived at an intersection and the traffic light turned green for them. "Well, actually - Mom's pregnant! Pretty soon I'm going to have a little brother or sister," she said mischievously.

"Dawn-!" Joyce exclaimed in mock horror. She then saw something out of the corner of her eye, a blue blur speeding towards her...

"BUFFY-!" Joyce managed to yell out, before the car running the red light slammed into the side of the SUV with a horrifying crunch and a squeal of tires - and the universe went black.

**Richmond, Virginia. The same time**

Fred Burkle screamed for Oz in horrified terror, as Xander Harris suddenly collapsed unconscious in the middle of their conversation.

**Sunnydale Memorial Hospital, Sunnydale, California. Fifteen minutes later**

Bert Chalmers checked the office one more time, before he turned out the light. He didn't want to leave anything behind, as he wasn't planning to be back for a long time - and then the man checked his watch. {Good, good, I should make my flight with plenty of time to spare.} the surgeon thought, as he exited the door.

Only to run into a nurse, who was obviously in a big hurry.

"Dr. Chalmers, they need you in the ER - stat! There's been a multi-car collision, and we've got-" She didn't get to finish her statement though, as Bert was already running down the hallway to the stairs that led to the Emergency Room.

**1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale, California. Five minutes later**

Giles hurriedly went over to the ringing phone, as the Scoobies flittered around him doing last-minute preparations for the party - given how Joyce and her kids were expected back any minute now. He grabbed the phone and answered it, "Summers residence."

He listened for a few seconds, turning pale as he did. Willow noticed this, and turned attention to her old mentor.

"Yes, yes, we'll be there immediately," Rupert said in horror, as he hung up.

"Giles, what's wrong?" Willow asked, and by now the rest of the room had sensed that something was amiss. 

Giles turned and looked at them all, "We have to get to the hospital. Right now," the man said firmly, getting his emotions under control.

"But, Joyce is coming here-" Jonathan started to say.

"I said *now*!" Giles shouted, as he ran towards the front door - and everyone quickly followed.

TBC...


	11. Chapter 35

**Part Thirty-five**

**Sunnydale Memorial Hospital, Sunnydale, California. February 21, 2001**

Late that afternoon, Rupert Giles blasted through the front doors leading into the hospital as if he was Jack the Ripper himself.

Close behind him were the rest of the Scoobies. Giles had filled them in on what he knew, on the way over. Which, it must be admitted, wasn't much. He knew that Joyce had been readmitted into the hospital, and since he was listed as the person to contact in case of an emergency - his presence was required immediately there.

One advantage of being a long-term resident of Sunnydale, was that Giles knew how to get to the emergency room of any of the hospitals in town without directions. He thus made his way through the corridors, till he reached the ER. The man then rushed up to the nurse at the reception station.

"I'm Rupert Giles, I-I was summoned here regarding Joyce Summers?" he said, short of breath.

The nurse looked up at him, but before she could answer a voice - sounding smaller, and way more forlorn than normal - called out.

"Giles, over here."

Giles and the others turned to the source of the voice. Both Willow and Tara then suppressed gasps at what they saw.

For there sitting on the edge of a gurney, not more than 15 feet from them, was Buffy Summers. But what horrified the Scoobies was that the clothes she was wearing were splattered with blood. Giles led the charge to where Buffy was.

"Buffy, what happened? Where are Joyce and Dawn?" the Watcher managed to ask, about a nanosecond before the others had a chance to do so. "And are *you* all right?"

Buffy just reached over and hugged Giles, trying not to cry. Willow came up and also hugged Buffy, as she began to explain.

"Yeah - Slayer healing, I'll be fine. Uh, we were taking Mom home; Dawn was in the back, with Kevin-"

"Kevin? Who's Kevin?" Giles asked in confusion.

"He's the boy Dawn's been crushing on lately," Willow explained. "Go on, Buffy."

"We, we had just pulled out...and I was going through the intersection. Dawn was joking around with Mom - then, then Mom screamed...we got hit-"

"Hit?" Giles demanded in incredulity. "You mean a, a demon attacked you in broad daylight?"

Buffy shook her head, looking to be in delayed shock. "No, I - some guy tried speeding through a red light. Plowed right into the side of Mom's SUV; the, the side where Mom and Kevin were..." the blonde stammered out, still traumatised by the near-death experience.

Tara looked around. "Buffy, where are the others? I don't see Dawn or Joyce anywhere..."

Buffy shuddered a little bit. "I don't know - they won't tell me anything, or even let me go see them! But they're hurt, Giles, I-I-I think hurt bad. Mom wouldn't answer me, before they cut her out of the jeep! I couldn't see Dawn, but I did see Kevin. And I-I don't think he's all right-"

At that moment, a nurse came up to the group. "Rupert Giles?" she asked.

"That's me," Giles identified himself. He followed the nurse, when she motioned him a few feet away from where Buffy and the others were. "Nurse - what the devil's happened?"

"Based on what the paramedics have told us, a drunk driver ran a red light - and slammed into the Summers vehicle," she explained. "They then hit a number of other cars, from the force of the high-impact collision."

"Joyce and Dawn - and that Kevin person. Are, are they all right?" Giles asked, an undertone of panic in his voice.

The nurse took a breath, before continuing. It was never easy relaying this sort of news. "No. And unfortunately, I don't have any good news for you; Dawn Summers is unconscious, and lucky to be alive. Still, the doctors are optimistic that she'll be able to survive what happened. As for Kevin Berman...I'm sorry, but that boy was brought in DOA. We're trying to get in touch with his next of kin right now; they'll need to come and formally identify the body."

"And Joyce Summers?" Giles asked fearfully.

The nurse hesitated for a second. "I'm not sure if I should say anything about that yet-"

"Nurse, please."

She reluctantly continued on, at Giles' urging. "She's in surgery right now. The woman's condition is very serious, she was in pretty bad shape when they brought her in..." The nurse looked concerned. "I really don't know anything beyond that. I'll get one of the doctors to give you more information, when they can."

With that, she hurried off to find the relatives of the other victims of the multiple-car pile-up today.

**Somewhere else, the same time**

"Hello? Where is everyone?" Dawn called out.

"Dawn?" was the response from far off into the distance.

"Hello! Help me!" Dawn cried out to the new voice. Then she finally recognized where she was, as the dreamscape that she had dreamed about Xander in.

And sure enough, the ol' Xandman himself suddenly appeared in front of her. "Dawn!" he shouted, when the young man saw her.

The brunette girl quickly hugged her white knight. "Xander. So, uh, I'm having this dream again - aren't I?"

Harris quickly thought for a second. {Okay, *I* know this isn't a dream, but she thinks it is. Of course - she thinks I'm dead, and Dawnie probably doesn't know she's the Key...so she rationalized the last encounter we had as a dream! Still, I'm here again; so *something* must have happened. Okay, then - if I just play along, the better the chances I have of finding out what happened.}

"Dawn, what's going on? What's the last thing you remember, before going to sleep?"

"Sleep? Uh, I didn't go to sleep. We were driving home from the hospital, then something big and nasty hit the car-" A look of terror then swept over Dawn's face. "Oh God, Mom! Buffy!"

Xander felt himself getting alarmed now. "Dawn, what's wrong? What happened?"

"We were going home from the hospital. Dr. Chalmers had given Mom a clean bill of health, and then - Kevin ran into us in the parking garage. Buffy was driving..." Dawn caught her breath for a second, an act that Xander found somewhat disconcerting. Because they were both in some kind of dream world, but their bodies still reacted as if they were physically present here.

Dawn continued on. "I was joking around with Mom, I made a crack about her being pregnant. Mom was acting all offended, when she suddenly screamed at Buffy. Then there was this crash and - I, I blacked out. I came to a few times, I think - there were people hovering over me. Paramedics, nurses and doctors. I was in a hospital, probably the one I'd just left - before I woke up here..."

{A car accident} Xander thought to himself in dismay and disbelief. {Something as mundane as that happened on their way home from the hospital? Un-friggin-believable! Life just sucks sometimes.} Then he pulled himself together. "Dawn, were you hurt?"

Ms. Summers involuntarily shivered. "Yeah, I think so. I, I...remember pain when I was awake, a few times afterwards. My ribs and stomach hurt. My arm, too. I was holding Kevin's hand, when whatever happened...happened..."

"Kevin?" Xander asked.

Despite the situation, Dawn blushed. "Uh, he's this boy I met recently. Kevin Berman? He's kinda cool. I think you'll like him, Xander, if you just gave him a chance..." Then she frowned. "Uh, wait - if this is just a dream, how come you don't know about him?"

{Crap! Got to think of something fast.} "Ancient Chinese secret, grasshopper..." Xander belatedly tried to imitate Kwai-Chang Caine from the old TV series 'Kung Fu', after coming up blank on anything else.

Dawn couldn't help but to giggle, accepting that as Xander relaxed. {Alright, let's look at the situation; Dawn's been hurt. Maybe bad. It's bad enough, anyway, that she's been taken to the hospital. I don't know about the others; that'll have to wait, until I end up back in the land of the awake. And for whatever reason, it looks like when Dawn is hurt bad enough and unconscious, she reverts to some kind of telepathic communication with me. But why? Gonna hafta talk to those monks about that.}

"Dawn, do you recall those doctors saying anything?" Xander asked, hoping to find out why both he and Dawn were here.

Dawn thought for a second. "I recall bits and pieces...something about broken ribs, internal bleeding, concussion..." She looked at Xander with fear in her eyes. Even though the brunette teen thought this was just a dream Xander, she still looked at him to make things better. "It's bad, isn't it Xander?"

Harris thought for a second about sugarcoating the situation for the younger Summers girl, then decided that wouldn't be fair to her. "It pretty much sounds like it, and thing is - I don't think I would be here for anything minor..." Xander concentrated for a few seconds.

Finally Dawn had enough, her dreams weren't supposed to ignore her like this. "Xander, what?"

The former slave snapped back to reality - so to speak. "Okay, Dawnie, don't panic. You're young and strong, and you'll get through this. I'll help you." He reached over, and took both of Dawn's hands into his.

Harris then led her to a flat place on the dreamscape, and helped her to sit down. He then did so himself, still holding her hands. "The first thing I want you to do is to remain calm, Dawn-patrol. Don't panic."

Dawn nodded at Xander's instructions, as she collected herself. "Okay, what next?"

Xander thought for a second, as a memory from the final year in Sunnydale came to mind. He remembered what had happened, after Willow had returned from spending the summer with that coven in England. She had been hurt by that demon that ate human flesh, what had Anya said his name was? Gnarl?

Anyway, the asshole had eaten lots of Willow's skin, and Xander remembered Buffy helping her out to heal herself.

By loaning the redhead her strength.

{Okay, that sounds pretty strange - granted. But then again, I'm sitting here talking to the mental projection of an interdimensional key turned into human form when she's all the way across the country from me, so I'm thinking that we're all pretty well past *strange* by now! I just hope this can work the same for the Key, like it did for Willow.}

"All right, Dawn, here's what's going to happen. You're going to concentrate on getting better. Heal yourself. Take whatever strength you need from me to do it."

"Xander, what the-?" Dawn asked in a confused tone of voice.

"Dawn, please, just do what I say. Concentrate on healing yourself, and I'll help you by giving you my energy. Ask Willow about it sometime; it's how a witch can regenerate her flesh. They go into some kinda healing trance, and if they're hurt bad enough, someone else can help out by supporting them and giving them energy. I've seen it done before-"

"When was this? 'Cause I don't remember anyone ever doing that," Dawn said, looking unsure again.

{Uh-oh, that's right - all that would have been almost two years into the future and can't very well tell Dawn that, can I? She thinks this is all a dream. If I tell her different, she might panic again - and I don't know what the results of that'll be! } Xander thought. {I need to come up with a story she'll believe.}

"Dawn, thing is - I go to a lot of different places when I'm not here with you. I'm a busy man, I've met a lot of witches and seen lots of magic..." {Which is all perfectly true, just not the way she thinks!} Xander continued, "Come on, Dawnster, have I ever steered you wrong before?" Harris then gave the girl that goofy, loopy smile that she'd always loved so much.

Dawn smiled back; as best she could with her situation, anyway. "Okay, Xander, but just because it's you!" Thus, saying, she closed her eyes and started concentrating.

Xander smiled and started concentrating himself. "Good, Dawnie, let's get you all better now..." the man whispered, as he closed his eyes as well.

And then the pain of a thousand knives seemed to hit him, as Xander somehow managed not to scream in agony.

**Takoma Park, Maryland. A short while later**

In the hospital that Xander had once recovered in after being abducted by Quentin Travers and his merry little band of Watchers, Joshua E. Cleburne slammed in through the entrance - very much like Giles had done, all the way on the other side of the country.

He had been briefed on the situation by Graham Miller; well, what little the soldier had been able to pry out of a hysterical Fred, anyway. Now that he was here though, Joshua wanted answers - and he wanted them immediately.

Thus, he marched up to the doctor that he knew was handling Xander's case, and *demanded* a full report on what was going on around here.

"I don't know what to tell you," the doctor confessed, looking rather stressed. {Mother was right, I should have become a veterinarian. At least then, I wouldn't have to put up with Marine colonels and their attitude! } "We've got Lt. Howard under observation-"

"What's wrong with the kid?" Cleburne instantly barked out.

The doctor just looked at his companion. "He's unconscious."

"AND-?" Cleburne almost shouted, his temper rather short.

The doctor shrugged. "What do you want me to say? We've hooked him up to an IV, and we're currently doing tests for everything we can think of. And from what we've learned so far - his blood pressure's too damn low for my liking. Heart rate and brain activity, ditto. But as for *why* all that's happening - bottom line is, your guess is as good as mine. We can only treat the symptoms, till we know why the hell this took place..."

"That's not good enough!" Cleburne shouted this time, not bothering to restrain himself out of concern for Xander's well-being.

The doctor just stared at the secret agent. "Look...Colonel. I've had to get up to speed on my new patient's medical history, with literally no time to spare. And the things I've read, in your lieutenant's classified file?"

He started ticking things off on his fingers. "Spent over four years as an abused slave in another dimension, with massive memory loss. Unable to be near certain people, on account of some sort of magical head trauma. Drank from the *actual* Holy Grail. Kidnapped and tortured by DEMONS!"

The man gestured, "How the hell am I, or any other reputable doctor, supposed to give you an informed medical opinion with regards to any of that? People like us, we're trained to deal with rape victims. Gunshot wounds. Kids overdosing on crack! Not *this*..."

A pause. "Look - you never heard it from me, but..." the doctor looked around nervously. "I'm thinking, whatever's really going on - you don't need just an M.D. for this. Your best bet is probably some sort of witch doctor, or friggin' shaman!" The medical man then hurriedly walked away.

Cleburne stared after him, then nodded to himself. {I better see if I can locate the Furies.}

**Sunnydale Memorial Hospital, Sunnydale, California. A short time later**

Dawn softly moaned, as she gradually regained consciousness. She hurt all over.

"Ms. Summers. Dawn, can you hear me?" Suddenly, there was a bright light in her eyes. She feebly tried to bat it away.

"Response to light is good," the voice said to someone nearby. "Dawn, can you hear me?"

"Mom? Buffy?" Dawn whispered out.

"They're here, Dawn. But I'm afraid you've been in a car accident. You're in the hospital..."

Dawn blinked her eyes a few times, and gradually began to focus on her immediate surroundings. {Xander} She then noticed she was in an ER examining room; a doctor was leaning over her, with a nurse standing nearby. {Oh, I'm having really wacky dreams these days.}

The doctor was frowning, as he examined the teenage girl. He then looked at her chart, "What is this?" the man then said to the nurse. "Who the hell screwed up the paperwork, *again*?"

"Doctor-?" the nurse said in confusion.

"Look at her chart, for God's sake!" the M.D. seemed very annoyed. "Abrasions and contusions, yes. But can you see any sign of deep lacerations, and broken bones? Damn it, this sort of crap has got to stop!"

The nurse simply gestured towards the patient, and the physician swiftly pulled himself together. "I'm sorry. Dawn, how are you feeling?"

"It hurts," Ms. Summers managed to get out.

"That's understandable. But don't worry, you're going to be all better soon," the doctor soothingly said.

"Where's my mother? And Buffy? And Kevin?" Dawn managed to ask, even though it hurt to talk.

The nurse leaned over and reassuringly stroked Dawn's hair. "Don't worry, sweetie. I'll go tell the people in the waiting room that you're awake," she said.

As the nurse left the examination room, Dawn realized that the nurse hadn't really answered her question. She instantly felt an empty feeling in her stomach open up, as all sorts of horrible scenarios went through her mind.

"Dawn!"

Dawn's horrible thoughts were suddenly knocked out of her head, as Buffy literally came running into the room, followed closely by Giles. Almost knocking the doctor out of her way, Buffy leaned over and hugged Dawn as much as possible, given how her sister was laying down.

"Buffy, what happened? Are you okay? What about Mom? Kevin?" Dawn asked her big sister.

The Chosen One just hugged her sister tighter. "Buffy! Slayer strength..." Dawn hissed out.

Buffy sniffled as she let go of her sibling, and stepped back. Dawn took a sharp intake of breath, as she saw the shape of the blonde's clothes. "Buffy, is that blood on your blouse?"

Ms. Summers shuffled for a second before answering. "Yeah, guess I got some on me when I was trying to get you and Mom to answer me in the car," she explained.

"Mom. Mom, where's Mom?" Dawn asked in panic.

"She's still in surgery," Giles said, half-numbly and half-sympathetically. "The nurses around here can't tell us too much I'm afraid, as all those who know anything are currently in the operating room right now."

"How bad is she?" Dawn asked. Buffy and Giles just exchanged a look. "Tell me!" Dawn demanded, her voice raising.

"I think she was hurt real bad in the wreck. She was knocked out, and-and hadn't regained consciousness when the ambulance arrived to take her away. I didn't see her again after that, I just know the doctors are operating on her right now," Buffy explained.

"And Kevin?" Dawn said fearfully.

Buffy looked down for a second. "I'm so sorry, Dawn. But he's dead."

"Oh my God!" Dawn cried out, as her left hand shot to her mouth. "No, no, you're lying. He's all right, he has to be. No - I, I can't lose anyone else!" She started to sob with intense, scalding tears.

Buffy was instantly back at Dawn's side, grasping her in a bear hug, crying also. "Dawn, oh God Dawn, Mom will be all right. I'm sorry, Kevin, oh God..."

**Takoma Park, Maryland. The same time**

"He's waking up!" Xander fuzzily heard a female voice say, as his awareness returned to its corporeal vessel.

The 24-year-old guy blinked his eyes, as he heard a commotion around him. He looked around, and saw that he was in a hospital room. Harris then saw that Cleburne, Oz, Fred and Graham Miller were present.

"Glad to have you back with us, buddy. I'll go get the doctor," Graham said, before he left the room.

"What happened?" Xander asked groggily.

"We were kinda hoping that you could tell *us* that," Cleburne remarked.

"Yeah. You passed out while talking to me, remember? Right in the middle of your saying that tacos really *are* one of the five basic food groups! It scared me, and I mean it really did, on account it was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Oz hadn't seen anything like it before, either, so we called for help. They didn't know what to make of it too, so they air-lifted you out here-" Fred said in a torrent of words.

"Where's here?" Xander asked, shaking his head and finally managing to focus.

"You're at the clinic in Maryland. Same place we used after that little escapade with the Watchers last year, remember?" Cleburne explained. Next to him, Oz raised an eyebrow - the mention of the Watchers having piqued his interest.

Xander sighed. "Yeah. And ya know what? I've come to the conclusion...that I've spent far too much of my life in hospitals," he said grimly, without a flicker of amusement in his voice.

"Don't worry. We've got a great health insurance plan," Cleburne replied, deadpan.

Xander almost laughed out loud at that. However, Cleburne didn't give him a chance to respond. "Still, we do need to know what happened. You got any ideas you wanna share with the rest of the class?"

Xander sighed and proceeded to explain. "I'm thinking one of my girls was in trouble, and apparently I had to help. So, uh, let's just consider this weird little episode a very back-channel mission - to reinforce one of the troops..."

As everyone still looked confused, Harris shrugged. "It's Dawn. She was in a car wreck when I passed out, along with Joyce and Buffy, and I kinda got drafted to help her."

"Help her, how?" Oz asked.

"Yeah, you-you never left my sight," Fred said, still not getting any of this.

"Well, this is going to take some explaining..." Xander started to say.

But at that moment, the doctor entered the room. "All right, everyone out! I need to examine my patient, before anyone does anything else. When I say so, you can all come back inside - but not before. So for the moment, all of you - git!"

Cleburne looked annoyed, the doctor frustrating the attempts of Xander's friends to find out what the hell had really happened; but even he didn't argue with the physician, as the Siberians marched out of the room.

**Operating suite, Sunnydale Memorial Hospital, Sunnydale. A few minutes later**

The steady beep of the monitors was the only steady sound in the operating room, everything else in there being hurried and chaotic. Chalmers and two other surgeons stood over Joyce Summers, trying to keep her alive. Several nurses stood nearby to assist them.

"This is a mess. Even if we can stop the internal bleeding..." one of the surgeons started to say.

"We *are* going to stop the bleeding," Chalmers interrupted him. "I'm not losing Mrs. Summers like this. Clamp!" he ordered fiercely, as the doctor asked the nurse for the desired piece of equipment.

"Blood pressure's dropping, 90 over 60!" one of the nurses announced. One of the surgeons cursed under his breath. He leaned in to see if he could find the problem.

Suddenly, the beeping stopped; and a steady drone, one that everybody who has ever watched TV instantly feared, was heard. "Doctor, we've lost the heartbeat-" one of the nurses almost shouted.

Chalmers threw down the scalpel and clamp in his hand. "Only one way to do this..." He reached down and surprised his colleagues, by applying pressure directly to her heart. As he did that, he leaned down and said...

"You are not dying today. Do you hear me? I am not letting you die! Not after everything I've gone through, and you've gone through..." Bert gritted, as he massaged her heart; trying to get it started back up. "You've got two daughters who love you very much, you've got a lot of friends here in Sunnydale and a lot of people out there pulling for you. People who don't like taking no for an answer!"

"Doctor, I don't think-" one of the chest-cutters started to say, then stopped.

Chalmers ignored him, as he continued the open heart massage. "You hear me, Mrs. Summers? I am not losing you. I am *not* disappointing your family and friends, so come on damn it...work with me here..."

The two other surgeons looked at each other, and then they both hurried to help Dr. Chalmers try to save the life of Joyce Summers.

**Sunnydale Police Department headquarters, Sunnydale, California. Half an hour later**

The door to the interrogation room opened up, and two uniformed officers and a man in a suit entered the small room. Waiting at the table was another guy in a finely-tailored suit, with a disheveled man sipping a styrofoam cup of coffee.

If Buffy had been able to see the scene, she would have had recognized the person drinking the coffee as the bureaucrat who'd tried to kick Joyce Summers out of the hospital early, after her first surgery. He was dressed in what were clearly expensive clothes, which had obviously gone through a rough afternoon.

The bureaucrat put down the coffee cup, and rubbed his forehead. His hangover was starting to be a very major one.

The man in the finely-tailored suit seated next to the bureaucrat spoke first. "Gentlemen, it's my duty to notify you that my client does not desire to make a statement about this horrible accident, at this time. He is, as you can see, very shaken up about what's happened. You can contact me later, and I'll set up a time for him to give a statement to you at my office."

The local Wolfram & Hart attorney smiled in friendly, and yet oily way. "For now, I'm taking my client home for him to recover after he stops off at the emergency room. And for the record, I really must protest the failure of your officers to take him to the hospital! Instead, they brought him straight here? I just hope that my client hasn't suffered any harm, because of that lapse in judgement..."

He stood up and motioned for his client to do likewise. "Come on, Horace, we're leaving."

"No you're not. Well, you maybe, but not your client!" the man in the suit said scornfully.

The Wolfram & Hart attorney stopped, as he took his first step. He was not used to getting this kind of treatment, from these people. The lawyer then shook his head, "Excuse me, but what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm stopping a criminal from escaping custody. That's what," was the terse reply.

The attorney mentally sighed to himself. {Time to remind these idiots who controls things around here.} "I don't understand why you insist on painting this fine gentleman as a so-called criminal. Over the years, he's given exemplary service to the community-"

"Because, do I need to spell it all out for you? This *gentleman* just committed vehicular homicide!" The reply was accompanied by a sneer from the man in the suit, who was the District Attorney put into office by the contacts of Siberian Trip Wire.

"Nonsense! According to my information, this accident was caused by the other driver..." Time to shift the blame onto this Summers girl. From what the attorney heard from the Los Angeles office, no one there would be upset if she took the rap for all this.

"By driving through an intersection, when the light was green? Get real, counselor. Statements like that, they almost make me think you've drunk as much as your client!"

A look of outrage crossed the attorney's face. "You have no proof that my client was intoxicated at the time of the incident-"

The District Attorney raised an eyebrow at that. He looked at one of the officers, who had entered with him. The cop took the hint and spoke up, "Mr. Miller's blood tests just came back - and his blood alcohol content reads 0.19. The paramedics at the scene, they could all smell alcohol on his breath and person. There's also the matter of the empty whiskey bottle found in his automobile, that's now in the police impound yard."

The District Attorney piped up. "But wait, there's more..."

The policeman nodded, "We have statements from the waiters at the restaurant where your client had lunch, as to his excessive drinking. He actually grew hostile and verbally abusive, when they tried to stop serving him. I believe that he was eventually escorted from the restaurant-"

"I was not!" Horace butted in.

Ignoring him, the cop went on. "We have the testimony of the parking attendant who tried to stop your client driving off, because of his erratic behavior. And to top it all off, we have two motorists who called 911 after observing his driving skills..." the police officer finished up, clearly relishing the effect his statements was having on the attorney and his client.

The evil lawyer decided to take the counter-offensive. "According to my information, you took my client's blood without his permission. And that's grounds for a lawsuit, I'll have you all know..."

The DA just smiled, as he handed a piece of paper to the attorney. "A search warrant signed by the judge, allowing law enforcement to draw a blood sample from your client."

"I'll get it thrown out in court!" the bad guy snapped, starting to lose it.

"Somehow, I doubt it. Because I for one think you're putting a little too much faith in your legal abilities here..." the District Attorney smirked back.

At this point, the bureaucrat spoke up in a whining voice. "You can't do this! I'm important, Mayor Wilkins himself appointed me to my position. And he was a big supporter of the District Attorney's office-"

The DA faced the hospital bureaucrat with a new smile; one that Buffy would have recognized as something she often sported, before many a vampire went dusty. "Mr. Miller. Richard Wilkins is dead, his influence is long gone and political favors mean squat when it comes to homicide! And to quote a line from one of my favorite movies, 'There's a new sheriff in town'..."

Miller actually turned pale at the tone and look on the DA's face. {What is this? This can't be happening to me.}

The defense attorney spoke up again in an exasperated tone. "You can't do this-"

The DA didn't even directly respond to the getting-old quote. He turned to the officers with him. "Gentlemen?" he said in a matter-of-fact manner.

The cops stepped forward. The most senior flatfoot then said, "Horace Miller, you are under arrest for vehicular homicide, assault and drunk driving..."

He then proceeded to read the prisoner his rights, as the man started to blubber incoherently. And he kept right on blubbering as they led the bureaucrat out of the interrogation room, after placing him in handcuffs.

The Wolfram & Hart attorney looked at the District Attorney with undisguised fury. "You idiot hillbilly! You have no idea what you've just started, and I promise you that you won't get away with this. *They* won't stand for it!" he hissed out.

The District Attorney just smiled in response. "If that refers to who I think it does? Somehow, I suspect your bosses have *far* more important things to worry about right now, than the fate of some low-level client up here in Sunnydale. Sir, have a nice day..." the man said in a chipper tone of voice, as he left the interrogation room.

**Takoma Park, Maryland. Half an hour later**

The ringing of the cell phone snapped Cleburne's attention away from staring at the door leading to Xander's hospital room.

He had been waiting for the chance to go back in, and find out what the hell was the situation with Xander's condition. However, so far the doctors had refused him permission to do so.

And this was *important*, as obviously now the kid's usefulness as a field agent was compromised. What if he'd been driving a car or been in a gun battle, when that weird crap had taken place? Cleburne needed details to decide what to do, but had to wait till he was given the okay by the quacks to start asking more questions.

So the secret agent was reduced to standing near the entrance to the room, hoping to break the doctors' willpower by staring alone. He was having no luck so far though, as the medical men refused to be intimidated when it came to medical matters.

However, Joshua had definitely unnerved his companions. Fred had even whispered to Oz wondering if Cleburne had the ability to blink, it having been so long since she had seen him do it.

"What?" Cleburne growled into the cell phone. "Josef. What's wrong?" He listened for a few seconds. "Damn!" Cleburne said in a loud tone of voice. "Yeah, I know, the kid will need to be told as soon as possible..."

Both Fred and Oz turned towards Cleburne, wondering what news was being conveyed to the Marine colonel.

**Recovery Room, Sunnydale Memorial Hospital. Later that night**

Dawn shifted herself within the hospital bed, as she tried to sleep. 'Tried to' being the key phrase, as she couldn't really relax with the tension coming from the waiting of word about her mother.

Buffy was in just as bad shape, sitting in the chair pulled up next to Dawn's bed. She had periodically been holding Dawn's hand, throughout the time waiting for news.

All the Scoobies, even Andrew and Anya, were now present in the room. In fact, none of them had left the hospital since they'd arrived; the possible death of Joyce hanging heavy in their minds.

In the corner, Giles tried very hard not to pace. He was worried sick about the mother of his charge, and the bald truth was that during the past few months - his feelings for her had clearly progressed from just friendship, to...something else. Giles hadn't realized just how far his feelings for her *had* changed, until Joyce's condition today had been revealed to him.

The Englishman had tried to prepare himself for the worst, if the tumor couldn't be cured. However, he wasn't ready to deal if he lost Joyce because of a damned, stupid, drunk driver.

Giles' worried thoughts were then interrupted, by the door to the recovery room opening up. Bert Chalmers stepped in, still dressed in his surgical scrubs, parts of which had blood on them.

Blood from Joyce Summers.

The look on Buffy's face showed that she knew whose blood that was. She stood up, as everyone else in the room paid rapt attention to the surgeon.

"Ms. Summers," he said to Buffy and then Dawn. He looked at the others with a questioning look on his face.

"It's all right, Dr. Chalmers, They can hear whatever you have to say. We're family," Buffy said. She smiled sadly at Giles, as he stepped next to his Slayer.

Chalmers nodded and began speaking. "First off, your mother's alive-"

Both Buffy and Dawn released the breath they had been holding. Chalmers continued, "However, she was very seriously hurt. We operated on her for several hours, and it was pretty much touch and go there for quite a while..."

"How bad was it?" Dawn asked in fear and incredulity.

"Very bad, she had severe internal injuries. Several ribs were broken. Her right lung had collapsed, and we had to reinflate it. She was bleeding internally and it took a long time to find everything with regards to that, but I'm afraid that's not the worst part."

Giles blanched at that. "There's more?"

Chalmers took a breath and strengthened himself, before he continued. "Yes. She suffered quite a bit of injury to her legs and lower spine. We don't know yet if it's permanent, but when she wakes up, she'll be unable to walk - at least for the foreseeable future." 

A grim silence greeted Chalmers' pronouncement. Giles finally spoke up, "How widespread would the paralysis be?"

"Just her legs, she should retain full use of the rest of her body. Her arms for example seem to have no long-term injuries," was the reply from the surgeon.

"Where is she? Can we see her?" Buffy said in a small voice.

Chalmers looked at the blonde Slayer. "She's in the ICU right now. She's still unconscious, and will be for quite a while. My recommendation is that we shouldn't disturb her, until she wakes up."

"But she needs someone with her, a familiar face to comfort her when she wakes up. It should be one of us..." Dawn said. She started to get out of the bed.

Only to find herself restrained by her sister. "No way, you're staying right there. You hear me, Dawn? You're hurt. And I don't care what kind of teen snit you might get into, until the doctors give us the okay - you're not moving one inch..."

"But I just can't lay here while Mom is in the ICU!" Dawn complained. "She, she needs someone with her!"

Buffy looked conflicted for a second. "You're right, but you need to rest..." Buffy didn't want to leave her sister, but she also wanted to go to her mother. However, the Slayer silently admitted to herself that she was more than a little afraid of seeing Joyce in the shape that Dr. Chalmers had just described.

Buffy turned to the father figure in her life. "Giles, I-I-I hate to ask this of you, but I don't want to leave Dawn; so can you go sit with my mother?"

Giles was clearly surprised. Buffy quickly hurried to reassure him. "It's okay, go ahead. Like I said, you're family. I'll be there in a little while."

Giles just nodded silently, and followed Dr. Chalmers to the ICU.

**Unknown heavenly dimension. February 22, 2001**

Not long after midnight, as human beings reckoned time, the entity soon to be known as "Jasmine" felt something happening.

And that was - after thousands, if not millions of years...her plans coming to fruition.

Finally.

The two dead things she had been manipulating ever-so-subtly - granted, not always successfully, but still - for a long time, were coming together at last.

Flesh against flesh, skin against skin, the ancient rhythm had started...and then her grandparents did it.

There was an explosive contact, and an exultant Jasmine felt the miracle take place - that primal spark of life flaring into existence as sperm fertilized ovum. So despite her earlier setbacks, Jasmine's plans were now back on track.

Connor, the son of two vampires, had been conceived in his mother's womb.

Jasmine's future father was now on the scene...

**Los Angeles, California. The same time**

The ethereal time-shifter demon known as Sahjhan glanced at the red warning crystal - which was now glowing.

In shock, the terrified thing realized that his worst fears had finally come about. The creature that had been prophesised to kill him, for over a thousand years, was now in existence.

Sahjhan looked at the statue, containing the frozen body of the 18th century human known as Daniel Holtz. It looked like his little vampire hunter was going to be seeing action soon, after all...

**Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles, California. The next morning**

Angel suddenly sat up straight from the bed where he had been sleeping, taking a deep breath as he did so. He looked around in confusion for a few seconds. The Champion then felt the female body next to him, before he even turned and looked at it.

Laying there in bed with Angel was Darla, curled up underneath the covers. And from the clothes strewn around the room, Angel had no doubts that his blonde sire was completely naked under those covers.

Angel instantly felt an intense feeling of worry. Last time, it hadn't happened right away...

So he sat there for a second, waiting to see if he felt the signs of a threat to his soul - from a moment of perfect happiness.

Sensing no pain, and eventually satisfied that there was no danger at the moment of Angelus getting unleashed, Angel returned to concentrating on the present physical situation. He shook his head, as he tried to recall the events of last night.

He remembered a terrible storm. The windows of the Hyperion had been shaking, from the thunder and lightning...

Angel and Darla had been running down leads on the latest thing Wolfram & Hart was supposedly up to. The Fang Gang had been light on details; only knowing that whatever it was, it was big. Because the evil lawyers had been running around, in what could only be described as a blind panic.

The two vampires with a soul had been unable to find anything out. They had tried to do so, of course. But after a fruitless evening searching for answers, the two had wound up doing...other things.

Angel remembered thinking about Xander's letters, and feeling morose. He'd been afraid of what was to come in the future; losing Darla, and having a son - only to lose him as well.

And Darla had sensed something was wrong. She'd had an inkling as to what the cause of it was, but not the full details. Angel hadn't shared everything of what was coming with her, after all.

The two had gone back to the hotel, after having a few drinks at Caritas. They had been talking, and then one thing had led to another. The alcohol, the stormy night and the emotions of the moment had led to the two of them engaging in physical activities...that both vampires had enjoyed very much, during the 19th century.

Angel shook his head, as he recalled said events. {Well, Darla's obviously forgotten nothing over the last century or so.} he thought with a wistful smile, as the male vampire put his trousers on.

It had been different in some ways, though. Back then, as far as Angelus was concerned, no other woman could compare to his female maker in terms of cruelty, and inventiveness in bed. She had been the epitome of bliss to him...

But for the first time, at least as far as the Irish-born vamp knew, they had made love with their souls intact. As two people different from the soulless monsters they'd once been. And Angel figured that as far as he was concerned - that one single night had totally eclipsed the last 250 years, and left them all behind in its dust.

Incredibly enough, it looked like he was finally moving on from Buffy...

Next to him, Darla started to stir at Angel's activities. Her eyes opened up, and she smiled at her former and present lover. "Morning Angel," she said sleepily.

"Darla," Angel replied with a smile. {Watch it, don't get too happy!} "Do you remember much about last night?"

Darla smile widened at that. "Oh yes, I didn't drink that much..." She sat up, clutching the covers to her body, and smiled the smile of a very satisfied woman. "You know, we ought to go out like that more often - not worrying so much about saving the world, and being the good guys..."

"We were supposed to be getting information on Wolfram & Hart," Angel mentioned wryly, as he put on his shirt.

Darla's face darkened at the mention of the firm that had brought her back to life. "Bastards..." she muttered, as memories of her awakening in the box they'd brought back her human form in went through her head. "If I didn't have my soul attached, the things I'd do to them all..."

Suddenly, she glanced over at Angel. "Speaking of which-?" the blonde woman asked with a hesitant look.

"Don't worry. It's Angel, not Angelus. Got way too much on my mind right now, for that moment of happiness to be a factor..." Angel replied. {Like you dying, before 2003. Our son vanishing and growing up in a hell dimension, before I lose him too. Oh yes, those thoughts are never far away from me, Darla.}

"I never could make you happy," Darla muttered.

"What was that?" Angel said, not clearly hearing what the woman had said. Or so they both pretended, vampire hearing being as super-sharp as it was.

"Happy. I'm happy that you're still here. As much as the old me enjoyed running with Angelus, oddly enough - I really don't want to have a reunion with him right now," Darla covered up her earlier statement, as she got out of bed.

"Well, I prefer me to him any day," Angel said with a grin. "And don't forget, my curse can only be broken by a moment of *perfect* happiness. And I can live with the fact that last night, you made me very *imperfectly* happy..."

The blonde vampiress smiled, and Angel took her in his arms at once. They then kissed intensely for a long time, feelings of need and desire and...maybe even love, being born between them.

In the end they broke apart, as Darla grabbed her underwear and started getting dressed herself. As she was picking up her blouse, a knock on the door preceded Wesley entering the room by a few seconds.

"Angel, I've gotten vital news on what's happ-" Wesley stopped talking, when he observed Darla's clothing situation. And the sight of her full, round, inviting and totally naked breasts.

"Oh, I-I-I'm dreadfully sorry," the British man managed to sputter out, as he averted his eyes. "I didn't you two were...that is, you'd decided to...should I stop talking now?"

"Wesley," Angel managed to get out, somewhat embarrassed himself. "It's okay. And before you ask, it's me - Angel. As for Darla, we're not...we're just...we'll be down in the lobby in a few minutes, can you talk to us then?"

"Yes. Yes, this can wait till then. I'll be in the lobby waiting for you." Wes then raced out the door, like his ass was on fire.

Darla started laughing helplessly, and Angel almost immediately followed suit.

**The lobby, five minutes later**

"Okay Wesley, what's the news you wanted to share?" Angel started the conversation, so as to avoid the uncomfortable air in the lobby. The entire Fang Gang was there, and although Wesley had not divulged what he had seen - they could all tell *something* had been going on upstairs.

Wesley cleared his throat. "Well, I have information about what Wolfram & Hart has been up to recently."

"Besides having the smell of tear gas in their lobby?" Cordelia quipped, causing the others to chuckle.

"Yes, besides that..." Wesley said as he continued. "I just came back from Caritas, and Lorne told me something that he overheard in the men's room. Apparently, the law firm is undergoing an internal review right now. And even though it's an expected audit - there is quite a bit of concern over this particular 75-year review, due to how many of their projects have gone awry lately."

"Well, I'm glad we've been able to contribute to their recent track record," Angel said. And Gwen smiled knowingly, for unlike the rest of those assembled - she knew what really had transpired leading up to the recent situation at the demonic law firm.

"Yes, I'm sure our efforts did not go unnoticed. And the firm is concerned enough that we may have gotten ourselves the opportunity to deal them a very harsh blow," Wesley explained.

"How so?" Gunn asked. He and the Lost Boys had recently taken out some Skilosh demons that would have otherwise tried to increase their numbers, and he was pumped enough to want more action right now with his adrenaline high.

"Well, the review is being conducted by someone being brought in from out of town. *Very* far out of town."

"How far out of town?" Gwen asked, wondering if she should contact the Siberians for information.

"According to Lorne, it's one of the Senior Partners themselves. And as it'll be on our plane of existence, it's therefore potentially vulnerable," Wesley declared.

"Do you have any more details?" Darla demanded, as everyone's eyes went wide at the possibilities.

"According to the Host, it's *most likely* manifesting in the form of a Kleynach demon. Very dangerous creatures, according to rumor. I've been researching madly ever since I got back from Lorne's club, and since time is of the essence-"

"Do what you can," Angel interrupted. "Contact whoever you need to. All of you, help Wesley with whatever he needs..." The Champion then seemed to remember something, or rather *someone*. He looked at Darla, "I want to check with somebody I met once, back in the old days-"

"I'm coming with you," Darla said to her lover at once.

"Good, I was hoping you'd say that. If all else fails, I'm sure you could charm this guy into helping out..." Angel turned around. "We'll be back soon, hopefully." Then he and the blonde made their way to the basement, and the access point to the sewers of LA.

**Denver's Occult Bookshop, Los Angeles, California. A short while later**

"Hello, Denver."

"I don't believe it," the 80-year-old man said, taking off his glasses and staring at the new arrival. "Is that YOU?"

"Yeah, guess so..."

Angel and Darla had safely made their way to the bookstore the male vampire had last visited in 1952, when he'd been seeking help to kill the Thesulac demon that had been infesting the Hyperion - since before its construction had even been finished. And the female vamp raised her eyebrows, as she looked at her childe. "Friend of yours?"

Denver shook his head, staring at the undead creature he'd once met as a young man and ignoring the female vamp for the moment. "You know, you changed my life that day. I mean, a vampire comes into my place looking to kill a demon to save human beings? I figured if something like *that* could happen, there really must be good in the world..."

Angel looked embarrassed, as Darla tried not to laugh in his face. "Right. So, ah, sorry that there's no time to chat, but we've got a bit of a situation - and we could do with your help. You got anything on Kleynach demons?"

But the shopkeeper was still focussed on the past. "Hey, how'd that go anyway? It was a Thesulac, paranoia demon, if I recall."

The male vampire shrugged, not wanting to go there right now. "Yeah, I don't know. I think he pretty much killed everyone..."

Denver nodded. "Oh - well, point is, you tried..." Then he looked deep in thought, figuring that while Darla may have been a vamp - if she was with Angel, it was okay. "Right. Kleynach. A lot of dark entities use the form of a Kleynach to manifest, because the Kleynach doesn't have to rely on being conjured or brought forth. They can come and go as they please, with that ring."

Darla looked confused. "What ring?"

Denver swiftly got a book out of his collection, after leading the two vamps to the private section of the store. He pointed at an illustration, "The Band of Blacknil. Simple thing, plain. You wouldn't give it a second glance in a pawnshop, but it's the source of the Kleynach's power to move between the dimensions, and that's what it'll use to get here...and get back."

Now Darla was getting impatient. "That's all well and good, but what about something to be able to kill the damn thing?"

Denver smiled, the smile of a man who knows himself to be in the box seat of things. "You happen to be looking at the one guy who can help you to do that."

Angel demanded, "How?!"

The bookstore owner said simply, "To kill the Kleynach, you need the glove." Denver then grabbed another book from a shelf.

Angel and Darla had no idea what he was talking about. "Okay, now you're making this up..." the former Scourge of Europe said scathingly.

Denver showed them the contents of the book. "Legend says that the Kleynach rose up from their demon world, raped and pillaged the villages of man and all who fought against them were incinerated, whether they struck with fist or sword. But one brave and worthy knight - he was given a glove..."

Denver dropped the book in front of Angel and Darla, which displayed a rendition of the glove in question. "Fashioned and blessed by all the powers of Light. And whoever wore this glove could kill the Kleynach, just with grabbing it by the throat!"

Denver walked into another part of his store and then came back, carrying a mailed glove. He said fondly, "Picked it up in '75 in a yard sale, in Covina. Been using it as an oven mitt ever since, actually. But now, I give it to you. No charge. 'Cause the truth is, vampire, you *did* change my life. And I got me a feeling that this time, things are gonna go better than they did with the Thesulac - right?"

Angel grabbed the blessed glove. "I sure hope so. Thanks for this!" He nodded at the human, as he took Darla by the hand and they quickly headed underground again.

Time was running out, after all...

**The law offices of Wolfram & Hart, Los Angeles, California. February 23, 2001**

"Damn it! How did this happen!?" Linwood Murrow shouted at all the assembled staff of the Special Projects division of the law firm.

Most of the legal staff were afraid to look at Murrow, for his anger was apparent to one and all, and needing a target to focus on. Linwood started pacing the room, "One of the Senior Partners comes here for the review. One of the most important beings in the whole of existence, mind you. And you'd think that we would attach some importance to that, wouldn't you?"

No one answered him. Lilah was definitely uncomfortable, even though she knew for once that she was blameless in what had happened - unlike what would have happened, in that other world.

Of course, at Wolfram & Hart being innocent of wrong-doing was no guarantee of avoiding blame.

"It seems though that someone decided to hold an open house tonight, and not tell me. I mean, how else could we have had Angel and his merry little band of do-gooders wander in and KILL the Senior Partner? Does anyone besides me think that little fact might look *bad* on the review findings?"

Silence was still the preferred response of those assembled. Staying silent ran the chance of Murrow picking them off at random and visiting horrible pain on the lawyers, however speaking up guaranteed that he would select the offenders as his target.

And Linwood, not having any response to his tirade, did indeed so select one of the attorneys. "Lindsey? You knew about the plans for tonight, you've been a little squeamish with the Bonex account, and your record with this firm is - spotty at best. You probably told the vampire and his friends all about what was happening here-"

"No, sir! I told no one," the man replied at once. "Besides, you know how I've been in Santa Monica all week by your order..."

Linwood growled, he'd forgotten about that - and so he looked around for a fresh victim to vent his fury upon. "Well then, make yourself useful and get a team together to dis-empower that damn ring..." he absent-mindedly snarled at the one-handed man, who nodded and went off on his new assignment.

Nearby, Lilah pondered something for a second that had been bothering her. {Where was Darla? If I know the white hats at all, she should have been in on that attack.}

**Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles, California. The same time**

"Okay, Angel, give!" Darla said to the other vampire.

They had just gotten back to the hotel after the attack, which had gone far better than anyone had dared hope. Angel had been able to get into the office building, make his way to the conference room, and attack the Kleynach demon.

Grab the Senior Partner by the throat with the glove, while jumping out the window. Fall to the street below, and then get away clean.

All and all, it had been a good night for the Fang Gang. However, Darla had a question for Angel.

"What do you mean, Darla? 'Cause, y'know, I already gave last night..." he lamely joked.

However, Darla would not be put off. "Angel, why did you make me stay behind in the lobby? It would have made more sense for me to go up there with you! I can handle myself as well as you can. As a matter of fact, I have even more experience than you at falling out of high-storey windows, and things like that. So why was I kept in the rear?"

Angel thought for a second. "I needed someone to make sure no one snuck up behind me," he eventually said.

But Darla had known her childe long enough to know when he was withholding something. "Oh no, dear boy, that's not going to cut it. There were plenty of places between the lobby and the conference room for something to sneak up behind you! And there's also the fact I heard you tell Gunn to keep a close eye on me..."

She put her hands on her hips, and looked Angel square in the eye. "You of all people should know what I can do! I mean, all the horrible things I've ever done aside, I was part of the Scourge of Europe. Remember how we survived over 150 years of everything that Europe could throw at us!?"

"That's because I had you and the others to back me up," Angel said hurriedly, hoping to forestall more questioning from Darla.

"Which is *why* I should have been there with you tonight! This doesn't make any sense - I know you're not stupid. So there has to be *some* reason why you were acting so strange! I mean, the last few months, you've not been trying to keep me safe for my own good. So why the change in attitude tonight?"

"Darla, come on. A Senior Partner? We're talking pretty heavy-duty firepower. I wanted to be careful-"

"We've faced worse," Darla was unconvinced. "Remember St. Petersburg?"

Angel actually looked down at his feet. "Well, yeah, but I was still worried and I didn't want to risk the-" He managed to stop himself just in time, from blurting out the whole truth.

But not soon enough to avoid having Darla asking more questions. "Risk the what? Angel, I want to know the truth. And I want to know *now*!" she said with a great deal of firmness.

Angel decided to go with a half-truth. "Darla, we just slept together last night. I was...concerned about your safety..."

Darla looked at her childe firmly. "That's ridiculous, *Angelus*. We've slept together before, and you never reacted this way. There's something else. Something you're not telling me..."

Angel swallowed, knowing the moment had come. He looked around the lobby, noticing that the rest of the Fang Gang were there doing the things they did after a fight; and failing miserably to conceal their avid interest, in this particular conversation.

The Champion for the Powers knew he didn't want to have the rest of this conversation in a group setting. So he looked at Darla, "Let's talk in private..."

**Angel's private suite, fifteen minutes later**

Darla looked up from the letters that Angel had given her to read. The letters that Xander had written to Angel; the ones telling the Champion about Connor, and who Connor's mother was.

To say the blonde vampiress was a little bit shocked, was kind of like saying the planet was a little bit round...

Finally, she looked at Angel with piercing eyes. "You knew. Right from the start...you knew what would happen. Everything...and, and this explains why you weren't surprised to see me, that first night we talked in that alley..." she said in a monotone.

"Yeah, well, not exactly; I knew part of what was coming - from what had happened, in that possible future. Basically, everything that Xander knew and told me about, either in person or what's written there. And I kinda doubt that even that guy knows exactly what's happened, ever since we left Sunnydale and later split up - a lot of things are different now, apparently, ever since history started changing during 1998," Angel explained.

Darla placed the letters on the table. "But you certainly can't deny how it seems like everything he warned you about is happening, here and now. And you believe that I'm pregnant with your child..."

The woman clutched her stomach uncertainly, almost unable to believe that they were having this conversation. "That's why you didn't want me facing off against the Senior Partner. You thought that maybe..."

Angel looked at Darla, aching to hug her but afraid she would instantly reject him. "Yeah. And I mean, was that so wrong? Darla, I know it sounds crazy, but given everything that's happened - I'm sure that you're carrying my son now. And I wanted you and Connor to be safe, no matter what. So I-"

Darla shook her head, interrupting him. "Angel, I can't have a child. Vampires can't have children! You *know* that!"

"Well - that's why Connor's gonna be called the miracle child, sweetheart. Look, like it or not, I have no doubts that we're going to have a baby - it was...preordained to happen. And I'm willing to bet my soul on that," Angel said with firmness.

"But how do you *know* all this for sure? I mean, for God's sake - these letters could be just some fairy tale concocted by Wolfram & Hart, to-to confuse and misdirect you. Or maybe this seer friend of yours is just pulling a sick joke," Darla shot back, figuratively grasping at straws now. {How can I be pregnant? I can't, I can't have a baby. This is *not* happening! }

"The letters are real, Darla. And Xander wouldn't do that! He wouldn't lie about my son," Angel angrily snapped.

"Again, how do you know that?"

"Because I know him, and you don't! Darla, I spent almost six months getting to know the man - as someone other than that annoying teenager he'd once been, after Harris came back from that hell dimension..." Angel tried to calm down, to control his anger by remembering that Darla had just received some *very* unsettling news. "Look. I know this is a lot to take in-"

Darla grabbed the first letter off the table, and started shaking it in front of his face. "A lot to take in? A LOT TO TAKE IN? According to your source, I'm not around anymore by 2003! What do you think happens to me - I retire to someplace like Venice? Come on, we both know the odds are that I'm going to get staked within the next two years! Or decapitated! Or burned-"

The man quickly shut her up, by plunging his lips onto hers and grabbing the pregnant woman tightly. Darla initially tried to resist, but soon tearfully surrendered to his ministrations as they kissed for a long time.

Angel then let her go, as he rocked his woman gently. "None of that's gonna happen. You hear me? The future isn't set in stone, Darla, if there's one thing I'm sure of in this world - it's that! I'm not losing you *or* Connor. We're gonna raise him here together with our friends, and anyone tries to get in the way of that? Soul or not, I'll shoot first and ask questions later..."

**Richmond, Virginia. February 25, 2001**

Xander slammed his fists into the punching bag, hard. Again. He had been in the gym, taking out some of his frustrations on the poor thing, for a long time.

The doctors had released him from the clinic in Maryland, the day after he'd had his little fainting spell. Because basically - they were at a loss to explain what exactly had happened, at least in conventional medical terms.

The experts consulted by the Siberians in non-traditional medical fields had a little more insight to the condition. They had theories, but no solid proof.

They all said that Xander appeared to have some kind of connection to Dawn Summers. What kind of connection, they couldn't say. And as for *why* they had this connection, they couldn't even begin to guess.

Well, they *might* have been able to guess if they had known that the younger Summers daughter was previously a ball of interdimensional energy, given human form...

However, that piece of information was not available to them. And Xander was glad of that, as the more people who knew the secret of Dawn's origin - the higher the chances of something bad happening to her.

As far as Harris knew, besides himself and those who had read the time-delayed letter he had sent to Giles - only Oz, Cleburne, the Wizard and Esther Marcum knew that Dawn was the Key. Cleburne and Hollins had told Xander that this little fact had not been shared with the previous Committee, or with the new Committee being created; and as for why, Cleburne had made some comment about it not being relevant to the mission.

But now, Xander wondered about that. He'd really hoped that with Glorificus/Ben having been 'eliminated', that Dawn wouldn't ever have to know or worry about her previous status. However - if in this world, she was capable of things like that...Dawn might find out the truth one day, with or without his presence to explain why he'd convinced the monks to make her human.

Well, there was nothing he could do about all that till 2003. And in the meantime, Xander just accepted the Marine colonel's assertion and kept Dawn's little secret as secret as possible.

'Cause she had enough worries, as it was.

When Xander had learned what had caused the accident, he had almost snapped and gone to extract some vengeance of his own. {A drunk driver, a damn drunk driver! He almost killed Joyce, Dawn and Buffy. And he *did* kill that kid named Kevin.}

Xander only vaguely remembered the name, from the first version of history; and so suspected that Dawn had had a huge crush on the boy, for all of maybe five minutes. This time around, Xander supposed that he'd hoped something more could come out of it. After all, Kevin hadn't been involved in the whole demon hunting thing, and he also wasn't a chipped vampire...

He might have been the best chance for Dawn to have some normalcy in her life.

And this drunk driver, some ordinary human asshole, had taken that from her.

And almost her mother, Joyce Summers.

When Xander had found out, well - if not for Cleburne, Oz, Gunny and Graham Miller, he might have been out the clinic door to go play the bongo drums. Using the drunk driver's head as a substitute musical instrument, head-splitting headaches not withstanding.

However, for now, he had to make do with beating the stuffing out of the gym equipment. Out of the corner of his eye, Harris noticed Oz come into the gym. So he stepped back from the bag, using his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"Hey," Oz greeted Xander.

"Hey yourself, Oz. You sleep okay last night?" Xander replied.

"Guess I did, but the noise from down here kept waking me up. Did *you* get any sleep last night?"

"Yeah, I think I finally managed to grab a bit of shut-eye around three or so." Xander started to unwrap the tape from around his fists.

"And yet here we are, little after seven. Doctors won't be happy. They said they wanted you to rest, man. And whoever buys the gym equipment probably won't be too happy with you tearing their stuff apart," Oz noted, as he looked at the well-used punching bag.

"Hey, they get reimbursed by the government. Hell, for all we know, they *are* the government!" Xander had gotten the tape off his right hand, and started on his left hand.

Oz hesitated for a second, before he spoke again. "Are you going to be all right?"

"Sure, the doctors have given me a clean bill of health-"

"Not what I meant. You gonna be okay with all this? Being linked to Dawn somehow. Learning that Joyce is now a cripple in the hospital. And knowing that you can't rush over there to try to make things right," Oz mused. "'Cause I know you, Xander. You've got to be wanting to go riding off to the rescue..."

Xander chuckled. "White Knight syndrome, huh?" He saw Oz looking at him questioningly. "Oh, yeah - Angelus called me Buffy's White Knight once. Guess I'm certainly not that anymore, what with me staying on the opposite coast to the damsels in distress-"

"When did Angelus ever call you that? I don't remember hearing anything about it," Oz said in confusion.

Xander shook his head. "You weren't there, no one else was. And it was a long time ago; another lifetime, when I was a totally different person," Xander answered as he finished unwrapping his left hand.

"Not that different," Oz said calmly. Xander looked at his former high school classmate as the werewolf added, "Fred certainly thinks of you as her white knight."

"She just doesn't know me that well yet," Xander said, with a shrug and a slight smile.

"I think she knows you pretty well. Don't sell yourself short; no one else does." Oz paused for a second before continuing. "If we're gonna be honest, doesn't matter about everything that's happened to you over the past few years. When it comes down to it, you're the hero type. Somehow...I think that even if you hadn't ever hooked up with the Siberians, you'd still be trying to find a way to stop those terrorists in September."

Harris looked amazed at the big speech as Oz finished up, "You're a hero, so I say just deal with it."

Xander laughed softly. "Well, don't go throwing any tickertape parades for me. I doubt anyone would come."

{I think you'd be surprised at who would come. I know some people back home in Sunnydale who'd instantly come charging to find you - once they got over the shock factor.} Oz thought before speaking again. "There is one thing that worries me."

"Just one thing? You're more confident than I am!" Xander joked.

Oz chose his words carefully. "Fred thinks very highly of you. I mean, *really* highly of you. Like Willow did, back before I came onto the scene in Sunnydale..." Oz noticed Xander wince a little bit at the mention of the redhead, before he continued.

"Now, Fred's a woman of many talents. Granted, wolf smelling power isn't one of them; however, she's pretty smart and able to figure out things really quickly. And at that point she won't need to smell Rachael all over you to figure things out, like I did nearly two weeks ago."

Xander stopped what he was doing, and looked at his friend. "You smelled her?"

Oz nodded. "Valentine's Day aftermath. Next morning she wasn't around, but I caught her scent real strong off of you. Didn't need to be a rocket scientist to figure out what you two had been up to, the night before."

"Well, as I recall you coulda been a rocket scientist if you'd wanted to," Xander commented.

"Nah, I just test well - and my real interests lie elsewhere, anyway. More fun playing a set on stage at the Bronze, than figuring out how to get the Space Shuttle to the moon," Oz joked back, in his own calm and detached way.

"You're good at both. Look, Oz, I know Fred won't take it well if she learns that Rachael and I are...that we engaged in meaningless sex for one night-"

"Meaningless?" Oz had the funny feeling that wasn't the way Rachael was viewing it.

"We're both adults, and we both know it can't lead to anything more. After all - I don't really have any kind of viable future in store for me, do I? I don't see any of the Siberians with large families either. They know the score. What?" Xander asked when he saw Oz's face twitch a little bit, what in anyone else would have been the equivalent to a huge neon sign.

"Gunny. He's married. Got four kids," Oz replied.

"He's married?" Xander asked. He was surprised, as he'd assumed that everyone in Siberian Trip Wire followed Cleburne's example and was a bachelor.

"Yeah, I heard him talking to his wife on the phone while you were in the hospital. I asked him about it - and he showed me pictures of his kids, they were all in Catholic school uniforms," Oz explained. "The oldest is a freshman in high school. He's got the whole proud father thing going."

Xander frowned for a second. "Well, that's good for him and I'm happy for the guy, but I'm not going to die surrounded by fat grandchildren or anything like that. Remember, I'm Future Boy. I'm the Timetripper..."

Xander shrugged his shoulders. "And one day, I'm going find out just *who* came up with that lameass nickname on that website, and really hurt them! Couldn't be something cool, could it? Something like Nighthawk, but nooooooo - it had to be 'timetripper'..."

Oz raised an eyebrow at that. "You think Nighthawk is cool?"

"Well, yeah, he was one of the original X-men!"

"But wasn't he also the first one killed?" Oz asked, with an innocent look on his face. "Anyways, we're getting off the point. As in Fred, Rachael and you. I worry about a non-happy ending here."

"It's *always* a non-happy ending with us Sunnydale alumni, buddy boy. You should know that! Hell, I've got a whole bunch of examples stored away in my head to illustrate the point," Xander grumbled.

"Shouldn't you do something to make sure that this particular situation doesn't come out in a bad way?"

"What for? No matter what we do, it *always* turns out bad somehow - Fate or whatever, sees to that. For cryin' out loud, I still have nightmares about that night when I first found out about Buffy and Spike..." Xander said, before fully realizing what he was saying.

For a second Oz looked stunned, then he recovered. "Buffy and Spike? As in..." he murmured, with more than a little disbelief in his voice.

Xander shook his head. "Long story from that other world, due to a really bad situation involving bringing people back from the dead - and some way-bizarre lifestyle choices. No need to go into any of that right now, and trust me - you wouldn't want to know, anyway..."

Oz pondered for a second whether to press the point, then decided not to. {Going to have to have a long talk with Xander one day soon, about all that stuff. It's pretty clear that there are still quite a lot of festering wounds.}

"Still, Xander, you need to keep in mind what could happen here. Fred has issues, quite a lot of them. And right now, like it or not - you're her anchor to real life. You gotta be careful it doesn't all come crashing down around you, when she finds out what you did..."

"Don't worry, Oz. I know enough to be discreet. And I imagine that Mother Hen wouldn't be too thrilled with me and Rachael, either. After all, she works for a foreign government," Xander said, unaware that Cleburne knew a lot more than he thought.

Xander picked up the towel he had brought in with him, before he had started this training session. "Come on Oz, enough angst for today. I'm hungry, I'll cook something up for us."

**Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles, California. The next day**

Angel looked at the letter in his hand, the one he had found on the bed in Darla's room. The male vampire had come to see how the blonde was handling the news she'd learned during the last few days...

But there had been no answer to his knocking. He had then entered the room, and seen that Darla's things were gone. Then he saw the letter.

Angel didn't need to have to read it, to know that Darla had left...

TBC...


End file.
